Pride

It's in the fact
that I stand
hand on my heart
when we play the Euro's
and chant the national  
anthem
without messing up a
single word even though
i've only heard it a few times
 
It's hidden in my  
expressions of surprise
the ghost of my laugh
 
the perfection of pronunciation
&
the fact that I view 'home'
as my host country
and not where I belong.
 
but what is belonging?
feeling comfortable in  
your own skin
 
will I ever  
feel that?
 
(probably not)  
 
It's the  
freedom  
in the flag
hung on my wall
so I have something to thank
something good  
about myself...
 
Pride, perhaps.  
 
&
my family  
are not the
types to  
encourage patriotism
in the way it has
settled, clinging to my heart.
 
It's reading poetry
in translation
and outside of it...
 
the one thing  
that will never
let me down
when the  
rest of my  
life has.