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Poem

Passport in hand, lookin’ down the line,
Done it countless times, no need to look at the customs sign,
Pulled and pushed from one place to another, no reason to whine,
It’s just life, your life, all day every day, international like mine.
	
Passport in hand, dropping your bags in the new place,
Hoping It has a really good Wi-Fi connection or else it’s a waste,
Will these cultural foods even leave in my mouth a good taste?
You don’t know, about a lot of things, except it’s hard being a new face.

Passport in hand, but quickly put away because of the picture,
Yet again you have to find another group of friends in the school mixture,
Find out what’s cool, what’s trending to secure yourself in the popularity figures,
As the next new teacher stands and makes you welcome, to you it’s a familiar lecture.

Passport in hand, trying to not feel like a cultural alien, feeling socially spent,
You close your eyes, you see home, or what it used to be, now you’re a loner,
“Where will I be next, how will they react?”, don’t worry, that’s not your department,
Trust in Him who was originally the alien, trust in His promises and you’ll never be a foreigner.

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