A poem I wrote about Taiwan, my adopted home..right now.

I walked the streets
and wondered….
‘what is a history,
that can’t find its life?’
Living on this island,
our island, their island
my island.
I find an age to adjust
and bear the heart.
All of us, consoling
the spirits of victims.
Yet, flowering to the ocean
with total recall.
A salty sea, with salty tears.
Refind at will, speaking at will.
With no wasted residue.
A metamorphosis of sorts.