Your skin
Pressing comfort
As i feel your weight and warmth
Reminding me
Like a gentle pinch
That I am real
Reminding me
That you are real too
That you see me
And I see you.

Those who use others
For their own gain
Stealing their labor
As surely as stealing their house
For the ground on which you stand
Is sacred
And will not forever allow you
To desecrate its gentle soil
With your cruelty.

I do not miss
Ice cream cones or toys
Of childhood.
I do not long to curl
In my mother’s arms
Though I might
Miss that too.
I miss waking every morning
And immediately knowing
That today is sacred.


Entry 27: A short reflection

I´ve reached an interesting point in my study abroad experience. I still often feel very much like a foreigner here (which indeed is what I am). However, I´ve also succeeded in many ways to integrate and participate in uruguayan society in spite of this (in classes, activities, my host family, etcetera) . So in many ways, I have now reached a point where Continue reading