I am here –
I am here with the trees
I am here with the wind
I am here with the water. 

I am here –
I am here with the people
I am here with my mind
And my body
And my spirit. 

I am here –
In a place to learn
In a place to grow
In a place where I can hear a girl
Through our joint wall
Muttering to herself in German
While she sleeps.

I am here –
In a place where in classes you hear
Muttered prayers
Flowing from the mouths of many.
Where comforting films are watched
And watched again.
Where meals are cooked in the dead of the night;
Oh well,
Anything for just a taste of home. 

I am here –
Where packages from home are worshiped
Wine sipped from a crystal chalice
a crown of thorns –
the father
the son
the holy spirit –
And a letter.
It is from home,
My mothers familiar scrawl paints it’s pages;
Pages torn from my fathers notebook
The one he said he would never use
I was always jealous of how beautiful her handwriting was. 

I am here –
2,787 miles from home
Picturing my brother
Baking bread
I wonder if he will ever find the flour
Without me there to show him.
And now, I wonder
if my father still watches reruns of his favorite movies on the couch?
Does he watch them alone?
Does my mother still borrow my books?
Do my friends ever think about me? 

I am here –
And everything is new.
But,
Everything I got from them,
The traditions
The laughs
The love
The stories
The crumbs
Are mine to keep.
I am here,
And I am okay.

Kiera Fitzpatrick-Moran

About Kiera Fitzpatrick-Moran

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