Japan

A country once war ravaged and in shattered pieces,
Once again free and and even more beautiful than when it was whole.
Now, it holds a piece of my heart,
His home away from home.

The lights of the Shibuya Crossing,
Remind me of home, far from Tokyo,
And though I can’t understand it
The fluent Japanese that pours out of his mouth
Sound like music I could listen forever,
As I hear jokes about how he speaks better than a native,
Even though to them he’s still a foreigner, gaijin.
He laughs it off, though I can tell it hurts,
And explains to me his favorite words.

When I was young,
There was a small red tree near my house,
And every spring, it would bloom
Into cherry blossoms, and line the path I’d walk.
Now I sit with him, under all these sakura trees,
Reminiscing just how I ended up here.

And despite how despicable I find pink,
When I tuck cherry blossoms into the hair
He complains is too long
Yet still refuses to cut
Regardless of my reservations,
I think, “On you, maybe pink isn’t so bad after all.”

Of all the words you taught me 
In Kyoto that spring, 
From ikagai to ukiyo,
And wabi-sabi to yugen,
I remember koi no yokan the most
The feeling that upon first meeting,
We’ll one day fall in love
And we both fell hard.
I must go for now,
But I promise to return to the place that taught what koi no yokan means
And the person who taught me how it feels.

Russia

The largest country in the world
Rivaled by its small population
Once lorded over by the Soviet Union
Free only in the sense of a word

As I sit in this freezing cabin
With only a small heater for my company
I’m taken back to the days of my childhood
When my room mirrored 
A winter wasteland
And I’d warm myself to sleep at night
With extra blankets and a small heater
Until mine could be fixed

I’m dragged out of my cold but cozy abode
Into the biting cold, snow surrounding my ankles
By my obligation to make friends wherever I go
And my burning need to wander the world

Now I’m in a bar yelling Za Zdarovje
And slamming shots of vodka
With new comrades and friends 
As we debate over the rise and fall
Of the greatest of Tzars
And talk about dynasties new and old

Venturing the streets of Moscow,
On white nights full of cheer
Head aching while half hungover,
But the night is still young, though not as sober
Making plans to find missing Fabergé eggs
And learning drunk history lessons
While trying not to get caught by cops
Or hit by their cars

I wish I could stay forever
But it seems that is not what is in store for me
I’ve made many friends
Both wasted and not
I will miss the company that kept me
And cherish the memories we made
Or at least what I can remember of it
Now I must bid you do svidaniya
And feed my wandering soul.

Paris, France

The city of love and lights,
And rightfully called so
With sweethearts wandering the streets
While the night sky is painted in gold

Yet in the romance capital of the world
I have none but myself to call my own
Standing on the Pont De Arts
I watch lovers lock their love 
And forever throw away the key
Sinking while they hold each other close

And as I sip on a cup of cafe au lait
Touring the Wall of Love
I hear a gasp, only to see
A lover on his knees, 
Proposing to his paramour 
Smiling while they celebrate
Yet wishing that one day 
I could be in their place

Watching the Tour de France ride by,
Reliving the days when 
My father tried to teach me
How to ride a bike
And I never managed to learn

So instead I think back to when I was young
Still so in love with love
I can’t help but wonder 
How long it’ll be before 
I can join in on the fun
Having someone to cherish

Roaming down the Champs-Élysées
I can’t help but feel empty
Seeing couples pass right by me 
So I dream of someone to call mon amour
While we live la vie en rose
And sing it too
Dancing under the Eiffel Tower 
Chasing away the blues

Ghar

The country my blood calls home,
And my soul has dearly missed,
A multitude of languages I’ve ached to hear
And words that slip out fluently in song
But crumble in my mouth when I try to talk.

Out on the streets of Bombay
I see a chaiwala
And think of my mother
Making chai for me
Every morning before school

And I smell all the spices
Wafting through the air
And it takes me back
To when my mother would cook
And teach me the spices
Adrak, jeera, mirchi,
And I learned the names 
In the supermarket
Ginger, cumin, and pepper.

And hearing childhood classics
Play on an old radio nearby
While I mouth along
Reminds me of the nights
My father would play them 
On our old music player
And we’d sing together offkey
“Main shayar toh nahi,”
Even though I turned out to be.

I remember my ghar, my home,
Though I grew far from it
It is deep-rooted within me
The kingdom I descend from
Forever remembered in history
I will return one day
With a family of my own
And plans to name my children 
After the gods who raised me
And kings who came before me
Staking my claim on what has always been mine.

Pakistan

A single day apart, August 14th
Divides the countries many once called their own
Independant, yet still at war
Fighting for Kashmir, the place that no one holds

It’s funny that for a country I’m meant to hate
It feels just like home
The streets, the food, the people
The songs that were once my lullabies at night 
Cheers and screams for cricket and kabaddi
Nothing’s changed
So why so much hate,
If we’re alike?

Maybe Hindi and Urdu 
Are just two sisters
Separated by time
Who miss each other

Yeh faasile, a distance of 3,323 kilometers
Prevents what could have been
So many families and friends,
And lovers split apart
So many ‘What if’s?’ are lost
Freedom with a cost.

So maybe instead of choosing 
Kohli over Afridi
Or Atif over Sonu
Or Fawad over Siddharth
We see how we’re almost the same
And instead piece ourselves together
Rather than tear each other apart.

Home

The home of the free and the land of the brave,
The place that everyone wants to go,
The birthplace of dreams
The place I’ve lived, and hold dear to me

The streets of New York 
Are all I’ve ever known
Grabbing dollar slices after school
And taking the train
Waiting for the next crazy thing
That ain’t so crazy to us.

The Empire State Building
And Lady Liberty
Are just parts of the city
And by extension my soul
That define who I am
The magic of it, 
Settled in my bones.

And the bright skyscraper lights
Twinkle like stars
At night when I’m sleepless
So I listen to the cars passing by
Roar of the engines
On the cracked asphalt, my lullaby.

No matter where I travel
Or how far I go,
My heart belongs here,
This is my home.

Process

I’ve always wanted to travel the globe and explore different countries, so I figured this would be the perfect outlet to explore what that would be like. I chose countries that had some importance to me. I wrote poems on my chosen countries and put them on a Google Map, along with a picture that correlates to my feelings about said country. It was kind of hard to write about places I’ve never been to, but once I finished, it felt like I truly knew the country. I was extremely proud of my project and the outcome.