Country And Continent

Entry by: Cara

12th November 2014

For some people,
where they come from is a geographical absolute,
an intersected space of latitude and longitude,
a continent,
a country.

My homeland is grief.
Its citizens are too numerous to count,
but we all feel alone.
I have sucked milk from its rivers
since childhood,
and its weight bows my body.

Our culture is founded upon
an ideology of worst case scenarios.
We expect bad things to come for us
because they have come for us before.
We measure the likelihood of our salvation
by the toughness of our hides.

The customs of our country
seem intolerable to tourists,
but none of us ever claimed to be content.
I don't plan stay here,
but it's where I come from,
not a place I will ever disparage,
ever apologize for.
When I move on,
no one who lives here will notice that I'm gone.
I will tell my new neighbors I don't miss it,
and most of the time, it'll be the truth.
Still, I'll always remember how to get home.
It's not that I plan on wanting to return,
but I suspect it will be inevitable.
The coordinates of grief are impossible to forget.