I remember when i too became foreign
far away from the hometown
that of: warm mountain-air,
sunday vendor chatter,
morning capitol walks,
And a sense of security
made felt by local robbers.
Gone at a step out the hometown.

I remember when i too became foreign
loitering unnamed lands, homesick
with lingering feelings, homesick.
Through and through the cold air
Missing my own home, and sick
of this haunting thought
whereas my body is new to such soil
And uneasy foreign-then-local conversation.
To an extent that in my own house,
I am sick and foreign.

I remember when i too became foreign
speaking the local tongue, and moving
accordingly to local norms, knowing
names: neighbors, nearby restaurants,
employers, employees, and officemates.
Being never really accustomed to the new
and holding on to such defining truth
that i am my own hometown.