The Transitory

A poem about the reality of uprooting and starting over — a feeling all too common for expats, military brats, and third culture kids.

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My feet and my heart

Scattered across airplanes and airports

Across oceans that feed the distance between where I come from

And where I go

My heart longing for the goodbyes said

Through warm hugs and teary eyes

Goodbyes to the homes that built me

The walls that hold the memories of a lifetime

And I sit through the turbulence of the plane

Wondering why the rocky skies resemble the way I feel in my heart

I know it’ll pass

And we’ll land

And recreate

The homes we lost

The memories that sit through our photos

And emblems we collected

And on a cold day

We’ll find ourselves thinking about the hearts we touched

And the ones that touched us

We’ll wonder about that one person that showed us kindness on a gloomy day

How they’re doing

And where they are

And wonder if they ever feel this way


Is not always a place

It is

A feeling,

A craving,

For that warmth

And familiarity

and happiness

Starting over

Both painful and beautiful

Can feel all too familiar

But sometimes

The heart craves stability

The pains of uprooting

Although invisible,

Leave a print that you can never erase,

For better or for worse

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