Take Me Home

Two years ago, my home was Beijing

Even though I moved away ten years ago.

Two years ago, I longed for inclusion

for that tingle that made my skin

burn bright with belonging.

You ask me where is my home.

It's the city, not the countryside,

the lights, not the dim shops on my way home

every week in the car that carried me away

from my bully

at church.

It's the land connected to me

with a string strung tight

through my body.

Not the embarrassment and shame

of teachers twisting my name in awful

syllables, and mispronouncing my birth name.

But that was two years ago.

I've changed.

Two years later, I yearn for the quiet

tranquility of the countryside,

Of my home away from home.

Bring me back to that place I

so deeply despised.

Ugly memories scratched away

from the surface

leaving only a yearn

for that place

where I picked up my first book,

I still remember the weight of it in my hand,

It's spine thick.

Safe.

Take me back to the place where I read books with my 4th grade teacher

Crying, laughing

Our conversations so pristine.

She reminded me of my home in Bejing

But you are now my home.