Poetry: Exile

Kat Sanchez

Paradise Lost

When all the world is before me
Except, ironically, my lost country
My land of exile, where you live
A ghost, a memory
A picture fading from my mind
And now, as the seasons change,
I wonder
What the sun looks like there
What the air smells like
What the wind feels like
If the water in the swimming pool is still warm
If the painted adobe is still bright
If the summer tourists are gone
If the flower market is still open
If the boys still play soccer in the calle
If Eddy has gotten any bigger
If Sylvia still thinks about me
If you still think about me...
My beloved country is not Eden
But a city, hot, dirty, mortal
All the sweeter for being forbidden.

Published by Kat Sanchez

B.A. from the University of Alabama in Huntsville. Aspiring English professor. Part-time writer always looking for an interesting topic.  View profile

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