When Things Unfold

When all voices are extinguished

Besides the ones I don’t understand

And I cross the big saltwater pond

Can I take your hand?

Can we share a bond?

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When my resilience shuts down

Having been pushed past the breaking point

I’ll still give in to the lights of Paris

Will I disappoint?

Will there still be things to cherish?

.

When all back home returns to order

Besides the pieces of me I left behind

And I trick myself into thinking

That I’m still on their mind

That our friend ship isn’t sinking

.

When I put on my brave face

Smile when people look my way

And I cry when no eyes can see

How badly I wanted to stay

How I hope they don’t forget me

.

When at last I realize

That it was all for the better

And good comes with each sunrise

I will write you all letters

I will tell you not to cry

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Inspiration:

The year-long move to Paris is a great source of inspiration for poetry, and with each poem I feel more at peace with the decision. Also, just wanted to say as of four days ago I am 12!

Explanation:

The first stanza: The first two lines are about not understanding the language when we get there. The third line, the “big saltwater pond” is a quote from Mark Peters ;-) describing the ocean. The last two lines of the first stanza are about France (I think) because I want to feel like I belong there.

The second stanza: As excited as I am about how good the year will be for me will all of the opportunities, I still have negative feelings about it, too, but I don’t want to disappoint anybody by having those conflicting feelings.

The third stanza: This expresses my worry that I will only be missed by my friends and a important teacher for the first few weeks or so and then everything will return to normal with them, and only I will still care.

The fourth stanza: This doesn’t require much of an explanation. It just shows that I am worried that I’ll have to fake being super happy, but still be concerned about a) what’s happening in France and b) what’s happening back home.

The fifth stanza: At last, we reach the part of the process where I notice the good outcomes. I write everyone back home letters (and postcards), telling them “not to cry”, which is ironic, as I am still trying to comfort myself a little bit.

Thanks for reading! If you like this, check out more of my poetry posts!