A(Me)rican Rhapsody
Poem
Winging far away from my motherland of Maharajas and snake-charmers, Namastes and Suprabhats,
In the land of handshakes, milkshakes and Hollywood, is now where I lie. Cows are sacred in India, but “Holy Cow!” the American Outcry.
My name is Daya,
Here, they called me Day-ya.
How do I tell them each time they said it wrong, it actually is Duh-ya.
Daya for mercy, Daya for peace.
If the verbal form too had a font, it would be the ‘Italics’.
All the hundred thousand stars in my eyes,
Now sparkled fiercely in 50 on a flag soaring high.
Dreams of freedom, dreams of success,
Will now be the face of my American skies.
A country of Liberty is a blessing in disguise.
I can finally be whoever I want here,
A painter, a dancer, a writer, A WOMAN
Shielded from the male gaze at my nation’s soil,
Which nothing did, but my blood boil.
From being the apple of my mother’s eye,
I sit here at Starbucks with a book in one hand,
and in other the ever-famous apple pie.
Homesick for my roots, but I flower wherever I am.
Incredible is !ndia, but United are the States of America.
© Julia Saha, August 2021
