I am a foreigner, too well-travelled,

Dusted with soot from every kind of kindle.

My soul shivers from all this travelling.

I was a foreigner when dynasties shone like fire,

when Song poets wrote lyrics smoother than music.

I was a foreigner when the Queen signed you into Dominion,

When grandfathers farmed their way to unceded lands.

I was foreign to the inauguration of Chinatown,

To TNT’s that exploited and T&T’s that exploded

I was foreign to John A. Mac and Mac n Cheese,

To Christmas cards and tap water chilled with ice.

I try not to be foreign. 

I learn your Charter from textbooks but not from examples.

I listen to Bob Dylan until my skin turns white gold

For he is the more legitimate song poet.

I become a foreigner in my house.

I play cultural disclaimers and censorships with my parents,

My parents who immigrated to your country, but 

Not to… your (my?) culture.

I am a foreigner. 

I am a foreigner in your country.

I am a foreigner in my house.

My soul shivers from all this travelling,

But it knows that will never stop. 

Biography

Deon is an emerging writer currently living in Coquitlam, British Columbia. They are taking a gap year before entering the University of British Columbia-SciencesPo Dual Degree Program. When the weather is nice Deon enjoys a good hike in the Lower Mainland, otherwise they are likely slumped in a couch reading the New Yorker magazine or some classic literature.