An Immigrants New Home

I realized the blogging has become a bit more difficult, in between all the password resets and just making time to share with you all, I got “busy”. I really have wanted to share and this morning, I told myself it was time. Yesterday, on my way to my parents home, I bumped into a Haitian woman, who inspired this poem. I thought about her the entire day and I started to reflect on the immigrant experience. I went into my parents garage and found a Kodak Carousel Projector.  I could not believe that it was still working!  The pictures of my family in Haiti and America, during  the 1970s and 80s, their first ten years in America was incredible. I didn’t have time to look through all the slides, but my father told me to take it before someone “accidentally throws it out as junk”. I thought about the woman, that I bumped into that was not yet comfortable with her new home and I wrote this.

Bonjou!‘ Good Morning.

She was lost.                                                                                                                                             The abandoned gray and brick warehouses littered with dog shit , weeds, and hipsters passing by were the streets she was used to walking

Her face was one of my parents homeland.


Her ears perked, slight goosebumps raised, her body stood still

“Bless you my child, God will take care of you!”

She longed for more words of Kreyol to be exchanged

I longed to  talk for hours and take her to my parents home

She longed for her homeland

I longed for my parents homeland

She longed for mornings where she spoke to others with ease

I longed for mornings filled with coffee, kassav and talks filled with analysis of last night dreams

It was summer and she still believed New York would always be cold

I carried my sweater everywhere because in AC land it was always colder than necessary

In an instant she alone again in her new home, America but longed for her real home.


~ by travelling womanists on August 2, 2013.

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