By Zoe Gungon
You are a nomad in the sense that you never stayed long enough to make yourself company,
forever searching unsatisfied for another
I ask,
what cause do you flee as the man who could not find a father within himself,
but found a mother within his daughter
How you run from this question, the unspeakable duet of “FATHER” and “DAUGHTER”,
performing together until the stage crumbles
beneath them
I ask, did you truly believe your signature cologne and cigarette smell could mask the smell of
the other woman, other nations, other people
you remark, i always felt so foreign
and i grieve the fact that you never found a home in this country,
and i never found a home in you
I ask, what had to happen in your life where your only choice was to run
it’s always the same with this fucked up family, always suitcases and plane tickets when times
get tough
I ask, what do you call someone who leaves their homeland but later returns
Coward? Patriot? Mother’s boy?
does it really matter,
we both know you are not here to stay
I ask, who will you answer to when the time calls
To daughter, she may not ask for the gesture of an apology,
but for you to leave again
as she is the nomad
seeking home in the absence
Zoe Gungon is an independent teenage writer and poet. She has previously been published in
Hot Pot Magazine with her works “A Lover’s Brew” and “ALL THE BRIGHT
LIGHTS”.
Hot Pot Magazine 