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The Rose among the Orchids
i.
The field tells the stories
Of many, young and old
The melting pot of silver
Carbon, rust, and even gold
At what point does a child
Feel the loss and agony
Where does he go? He sits,
Merely follows, blissfully
The seed, not of this field
It grows like native crop
Its roots are in its soil
Its stems come out on top
Know that I may not belong here
Despite this tongue and skin
They smile and say hello
With their acceptance wearing thin
I see them try out my field
Like matches trying to swim
I play their sports and music
Use language on a whim
The Rose, I have gown tall
I have been harvested like wheat
And living in another world
This life cannot be beat
ii.
Where do I belong
My mirror asks of me
He says he is an Orchid
But the Orchids do not see
To them I am the Rose
And while high and very tame
This seed if from another place
The two are not the same
However, when I’m home
Among those of my flock
They all avoid my contact
Like they don’t know I can talk
With Orchids, he’s the Rose
With Roses, he’s a weed
He is me, though family
Is all I’d ever need
Who then, shares my family?
Those who come and go
They, like me, are vapors
Clouds when the winds blow
iii.
Because his world is mobile
Attachment, but a thought
When a fire blazes
He does not get hot
I watch these embers steal
What my memories hold dear
The friendship that we had
Is locked into the yesteryear
The motto of my kind
“Don’t let your roots grow deep
You’ll rip apart your structure
With nothing left to keep
Instead learn to adapt
Deciduously freeze
Your colors will shine brighter
When you stand up in the breeze”
I take home information
And a brand new point of view
The life among the Orchids
Brings always something new
There is no black or white
There is but only grey
Where in my mind, the world
Does only tear and fray
But as I’m just a Rose
Subjectively at best
I have but my opinion
And my petals tell the rest
iv.
My petals tell you where
Explain what I have been
They tell a different story
From a rose, home in its bed
I do not quite fit in
My roots draw different light
I have the greatest background
The pain then feels alright
v.
He owns this new perspective
I see him in the mirror
The reasons for his moving
Could not be any clearer
The farmers are my parents
They plant me in this field
Though, not until recently
All secrets are revealed
To be a Rose with Orchids
Is more than just a gift
A calling he’s received
To keep the world from going adrift
So like the foreign child
Whose universe is twirled
The Rose among the Orchids
Will grow to change the world.
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I grew up as a missionary kid in Thailand, which has a completely different culture of its own. Coming back to the US can be hard, but at least now I live with a new perspective.