My roots are found in the taste of new foods

rich with a culture yet to be discovered.

They are found in the familiar taste 

of my mother’s cooking.

My roots are found in the alienated language

spoken amidst a sea of locals.

They are found in the smiles of strangers

passed around wordlessly.

My roots are found in the past houses

that hold endless tales of childhood. 

And they are in the boxes just packed,

ready to be shipped to their next location.

My roots have not taken hold in any one place.

They move from one place to another alongside me,

Learning and feeding on the nutrients of each new country.

My roots are rootless and still, 

they grow.