I feel like I'm living somebody else's life.
It doesn't feel like mine.
I walk around,
following feet that are
smaller and more
careful than my own,
my eyes stinging
seeing double
blurred images of
the faces of friends
now foreign and distant
do I know that person?
I ask myself as they
wave at me
do they know me?
do they know what's happened?
I sit and listen to the
voice of the teacher
and I'm thinking,
why am I in this class?
I can't speak French
I can't understand this language
why am I here?
why am I not at the church,
praying?
why am I here?
03.01.2011
This is only a first draft, but I'm posting it here until I've edited it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem