He was asked where he felt at ‘home’
A smile and a wince
I grew up not far from here in a small town.
I immediately moved out when I came home from travels.
Not generations but mentalities
A disconnect from those who had returned
I want to be in an urban space, where it is dynamic and social.
Born to an Italian father and Spanish mother
Her heart and soul raised in the Swiss Alps
I never realised that as a woman, I would have so much to carry on my shoulders.
Hair messy, eyes wild with laughter
It is good we came here, to mix things up a bit.
She closed her eyes, warming them in the morning sun
A monument that stood to house neighbourhood kids
Motorcycles and bicycles piled up
In line to play soccer
He grabbed my notebook and began to draw
Our only form of communication.
Birds flying and fish swimming
Above and beyond the boats of Inle
Thanaka gleamed on his cheeks
He held up his fingers to show his age
A shift from the corporate world
To trailing spouse
Opened her eyes to new ways of being
I no longer aspire to have that big career.
Her life at a crossroads
The creation of new community in each location
I think ‘coming home’ was the toughest transition of all.
The payment for a passport dear
from the white shores of Greece
to the artificial island of the Netherlands
My brother awaits me.
Once a home is now rubble
But aspiration for new remains
I worked for the Red Cross and now I am the one requiring aid.
Referred to as the saviour
As he secured his mother’s freedom from imprisonment
Caught amidst the battle
I represent the lost generation of El Salvador.
Innocent voices of a small boy
He would grow up to speak through the written word
New forms in a neoliberal world
I have always believed and keep believing in impossible things.