What It’s Like to Be A Foreigner (For All of You Who
Are Living in Their Home Country)
It’s
like the excitement of a first kiss in a hot summer evening at first
Bursting
with energy and control
It’s
a relaxing afternoon when a little girl discovers a country side with her best
friends
Without
any fear
It’s
a complete surprise by the variety of colors, shapes and lights
Safety
and happiness
It’s
then like switching lights off suddenly
Summer
time is over…
It’s
like a moment of growing up and going to school
But
not wanting to go
It’s
like performing in front of a hundred strangers and forgetting the lyrics
Tongue
as an ice cycle
Gradually
melting.
Almost
all friends gone
It’s
watching natives friendly but distant in their personal circles
Hazed.
In
their private houses on wheels
Hiding
in their giant brittle boxes
It’s
a sound of an opening garage door that breaks the silence
It’s
them not looking, not caring
Stranded
by plastic.
Is
life in plastic so fantastic?
Social
poverty.
It’s
like watching abandoned streets after strike of zombies
Deserted
cities.
It’s
like a summer never coming again for a long time
It’s
like a kid staring through the glass window at favorite candy store
But
he cannot taste it.
No
more candy!
Everything
so distant.
It’s
like kissing through the glass in a crystal castle
Not
able to touch, taste and feel your loved one
Never-ending
torture.
Time
clock clogged
It’s
an eternal fall with its burned leaves
It’s
the magic passing away suddenly
But
senses so hungry for just a slight of summer
It’s
a head full of dark chocolate clouds
Decadent
soul.
Memories
remembered forever, played over and over like a favorite song
It’s
having recurrent dreams of a past life
Watched
through a rainbow-tinted glasses
It’s
a spring coming bit by bit
Like
a hope of a better weather
Even
if it rains sometimes
It’s
a sun twirling slowly like a fragile ballerina
Inviting
to dance, tempting to trust
It’s
a candy never tasting the same as the one in the first store
Of
the town she grew up in
It’s
searching for lost sensations and rarely finding them
Some
friends are gone…
The
best one stayed forever
It’s
summer time!
Despite
winter hiding in dreams, slowly kissing my forehead…
It’s
time to find my electric blanket.
Tym wierszem wyrecytowanym przy klasie zakonczylam wczoraj swoj pierwszy semester.Zakonczenie bylo bardzo emocjonalne.Czulam sie jakbym uczestniczyla w grupowej terapii.Kazdy student mial za zadanie wyrecytowac swoj wiersz opisujacy osobiste przezycia.Moj wiersz opisujacy uczucia emigranta to pikus przy niektorych ktorych wczoraj dane bylo mi wysluchac.Niektorzy otworzyli sie bardzo.Ludzie zaczeli plakac i bic brawo,niektorzy wychodzili zalani lzami z rozmazanym makijazem,przytloczeni nadmiarem emocji.
Najbardziej poruszyl mnie wiersz kolezanki ktora pisala o swoich uczuciach jako osoba bezplodna,a takze wiersz chlopaka ktory byl wykorzystywany seksualnie i bity przez wszystkich czlonkow swojej rodziny.Byl tez wiersz narkomana ktory uwolnil sie od nalogu sam po 10 latach.Duzo emocji,bardzo sie do siebie zblizylismy jako grupa.Bylo duzo slow zrozumienia i przyjaznych usciskow. Po wyjsciu z klasy czulam sie bardzo szczesliwa ze moglam w tym wydarzeniu uczestniczyc.
Po powrocie do domu szybciutko zmienilam swoj plan zajec tak aby znowu byc w tej klasie z ta sama profesorka i z ta sama grupa ludzi.Nie moge sie doczekac nastepnego semestru.Bede brala matme(o zgrozo),nastepny stopien angielskiego,psychologie i socjologie.
