slow change

as we poured through the foggy streets

glimpsing glimmering tiny fairy lights

house windows flashing, catching the headlights dim

I realised how good it would be for me to get to know my mother –

this land, which has given me

my face

my skin color

my accent

this land, which I know so little about surviving in

I can look her in the face and see how ugly she is, but

there must be a way to live here simply

without being sucked into the shallow vortex of self-gratification and lies

hiding behind the mask of freshly-cut lawn and picket fence

I know there is brokenness here, too

I want to seek it out and live there

healing, fighting,

catching bullets.

I can find the beauty here in all this run-down concrete just the way I have done before,

learning this culture, wearing the robe of the first world for the first time

I saw what could become my life

and it wasn’t terrifying.