Being Immigrant

This is not a rant. This is not a complaint.

Realization, you’re finally alone. No matter who you meet and no matter the love or hate you find, it's not what you know. It's not home.

Liberation one moment, you burden no one’s thoughts, take up no one’s heart and mind, finally a world to conquer!

— The next, what now? Like a candle out of its candelabrum, free to stand alone. But how, why?

Emptiness, like clutching at air before losing your footing. At one instance you stand, at another, you may topple.