Hometown | Teen Ink

Hometown

December 10, 2020
By Susan11111 BRONZE, Chengdu, Other
Susan11111 BRONZE, Chengdu, Other
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I found myself missing

when I was thousands miles away, dancing.

How you witnessed my mother’s painful punching

Dark red blooding, crushing like a cracked squeezing

I got furry furniture in my room, your fetish love and lose. Whining

When I was there, missing

When I was over.

 

I have long gone

From you, and my amusing tragedy alone.

My mama’s gigantic glamour, once shadowed. Now, decayed cologne.

Submerged me when I was five, in that rainy summer sigh, you were there

Watching, witnessing, Waiting

For my buoyant death.

Your frozen rain drunk me, thunder midnight, found myself wetting in familiar darkness.

Even I, once tried hard to escape, have to come to admit

You are my blood, my bone, and bond

Land with Land.

 

People told me

One’s coming land always leaves sign and sin

Even tiny traces, it is there, entrench deep in

Flesh, bone, even eyes.

True, when I wake up in foreign land

In sundown spins your shadow, your warmth, moist in my eyes.

 

When I arrive my destination

People see me in surprise, lost traveler, holding nothing

I try to find faith from them, find myself, sky and sea

But you, the only thing to see and feel.

Red soil softens, damp breeze blows, sweating and sticky, shallow river flows with mud

Simple Summer, the only thing I hate and have. Poor and ignorance, I refuse to miss

When I am now high enough to go. Blood drained on your rocky table

My mama’s weary smile, and man’s baffled violence. I grew

On an arid land and now myself dehydrated, left dryness on my skin and soul.

I weep yet only in your voice, I flee yet only in your pace. It is only you

and me. That’s how you cage me.     

 

People told me

Reminisce starts, when distance too far

Separate continents, Pacific tides block

the root. True, I found tears on my bed yesterday morning

Pink roses, fragrance of Latte, I find myself missing

Uncle Tim’s rusty axe, My grandma’s pure paste

Liquid flowing, first time in ten years.  

Then finally know,

What I hated

About you

Now I miss

When foreign tides pour

in my exotic ears.



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