I’ve always claimed my early life as that of
an involuntary nomad
my home always a temporary shelter
between shifting points on a map
I thought I hated it
moving away and losing touch with friends
and never having anything permanent of my own
but now
I can’t help but wonder if it’s in my blood
to wander
to pull up my own roots
before they dig too deep into familiar soil
maybe it’s me
deciding not to stay
not to become a local
I almost did it
once
but even the comfort of
a chosen family of friends and
streets memorized like my own name
couldn’t keep me when times got tough
I ran to ancestral lands along the coast
and now we’ll see
if I’ve always been an itchy footed traveler
or if maybe I’ve just been working my way back home
*note: this poem used to include the word “gypsy” and has been updated due to the word’s status as a slur
Larissa Lee 