Home
Culture is a loaded word.
It conjures different images for different people.
For me, it brings me to a faraway land.
Taiwan:
Bustling streets of busy people
Motorcycles and angry drivers
Dark clouds of smog looming over city towers
But there is beauty in the suburbia.
Views framed by rain-satiated forests, green leaves lush with life
The old street food vendor with crinkly eyes and decades worth of skill
The first bite of fruit from the platter afixed by my grandmother.
It takes time to realize that culture is synonymous with home.
This poem is about:
My community