Mariko

Mariko Kato

she/her

Home

I am trapped in a whirl of colours and sounds All unique and all unfamiliar, though maybe that’s what makes them beautiful, They are distant as if I have dreamt them before And they are fighting their way, As if trapped under ice They are there, if only I can grab them Hold them, and cradle them in my arms Yet, when I finally do, They are dull I look them straight in the eyes and see only myself reflected Myself in a million mirrors, None of which are familiar to me “This is home” I tell myself Is this home? Is this the warm glow of hot chocolate in a microwave? The smell of fire filling my lungs and surrounding me The knitted sweater laying over my heart and hugging me tight Or is this the bitter regret of realizing the drink has gone cold, The smoke is choking you And the sweater is sopping wet Because you laid in wait for too lo “This is home” So why don’t I belong

2021