Jasmine

This is a poem I wrote several years ago that talks about my experience of being an MK (Missionary Kid) and growing up in Indonesia. It was one of about 7 or 8 poems I wrote about Indonesia during a poetry class that served as an elective for me during my Grad school. Perhaps I will share the others someday as well. I decided to share this one first because, while the others are about the place where I grew up, this one is, primarily, about me. Enjoy.

Jasmine

A jasmine tree guarded the front steps
at the house where I was a child.
Its branches reached toward my window,
bending down, looking in.
Every morning it whispered,
leaned toward me in the wind,
raining blossoms on my path.
I tried to memorize the tiny white curves,
kiss their sweet fragrance,
hoping it would stick to me.
It was the smell of being young,
of sun on my skin,
cool wind smoothing the island.

Now I cannot remember the smell of jasmine.
I never learned to live one and a half lives.
Breathing the thick air of Texas
I search for the scent of green,
angry at my white skin
hiding Asia like a secret inside me,
the breath of an island where
I never did belong.