Culture

Freshly ground spices, the smell lingering, the only sense of comfort,
She wanders through her kitchen, trying to make sense of her feelings,for the first time.

In and out, waiting for the aroma to settle, she sighs and quietly groans,
Simmering in her bones, the culture shock, she doesn’t know how to truly feel.

Noone around, no one here to witness, there is no appeal.
For her.

The anguish of the separation kicking in as she stops to stir,
Under her hand the melting pot begins to burn.

Oh how different, she thinks to herself.

How she wishes, she was back there, again,
In the land of content, life and real fresh air.

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