Brazilian Day in Toronto

by Karla   Nov 24, 2012


Brazilian Day in Toronto

When you get the subway,
you hide your yellow and green heart
under a worn-out t.shirt:
you don't want people to hear
the strange noise it makes when
you miss home. It is hard to know
you will listen to all those songs that
make you lick your Mother Tongue.

And when you arrive there, you kneel down
and kiss Yonge-Dundas Square.
For a couple of hours,
you think you are contemplating The Sugar Loaf
or sunbathing in Ipanema beach.
So you dance and cry whenever you
see you are not the only one,
thinking about who you were
and what you are now.
You forgive yourself for your choices
and finally understand your homesickness
as you eat some typical Brazilian food
(which is very different from your mother's seasoning),
drinking coconut water.

And when it is over,
It is not over.
Your body trembles
with the old cliche and
you get more aware
that home is where your heart is.

So you weep alone again,
and then call your family
just to tell mum you are well
but you can't come back home yet.
Not yet.

Karla Bardanza

http://karlabardanzapoems.blogspot.com
http://skycladatmidnight.tumblr.com
http://poeticpostcards.blogspot.com

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by L

    Home... There is nothing like home.
    But home is everywhere and anywhere we go, mainly where we feel like it is home. So yeah, home is not something material but something that make us feel secure. There are many ways to explain or many will have a different definition.

    I like this piece, this someone living in Toronto, it seems, while celebrating "Brazilian day" and remembering his/her home place. However, this someone is mainly remembering his/her family. His/her family are his/her home and they will always be. Even if he/she is not ready to go back yet.

    Which makes me wonder why? And I like when poems make me ask questions.

  • 11 years ago

    by Lostlove1

    Beautiful details in this poem Karla. I was drawn to the yellow and green heart but I adored this part of your poem: It says so much!

    And when it is over,
    It is not over.
    Your body trembles
    with the old cliche and
    you get more aware
    that home is where your heart is.

    Awesome piece my friend.

    • 11 years ago

      by Karla

      Yellow and green are the colors of our flag Connie.

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