Sat, 10/26/2013 - 15:37 -- kturka

So different from my home
with tall buildings and paved sidewalks 
and the people with strange dress, speaking a language so peculiar.
When addressed I simply nod, 
pretending to understand. 
I’m not sure if I like the cool air or
the way the water sprays from the wheels of cars 
as they rush by.
My old home in Calcutta, 
although smaller than where I live now,
was filled with the noises of my family-
my mother cooking, my father painting -
now replaced by the barren walls and silence 
of the empty apartment. 
When my son is born 
at least there will be something to do with my time
while my husband is at work 
and I sit at home
scrubbing floors,
organizing the fridge again,
and preparing dinner with these shiny new pots and pans. 
I wonder how it will feel 
to come into this world, with no one to greet him,
to know nothing but barren walls and silence
and paved sidewalks.
My son,
will he be like me,
or will he be a foreigner like the rest?

In the voice of Ashima from the novel, The Namesake, by Jhumpa Lahiri


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741