What I'm Not Used To.....

What I’m not Used To

There are certain things in this country
That I am finding kind of funky
Things that are strange
And forcing me to change
Like squatting over a hole to pee
Scattered piles of debris
Toilet paper is some water and a pail
Women walk around covered under thick veils
This place is definitely not New York
No one eats with a fork!
But rather uses their hands
And every house has a fan
For the relentless, sweltering heat
Constant black dirty soles under your feet
From walking barefoot on the broken street….

The blatant stares of men
Feelings in the air of Zen
Burning lips after eating spice
Everything sold at a bargain price
Rice served at every meal
Gold jewelry is such a steal
Vibrant colors of yellow, orange and red
All the different chutneys to spread
Persistent mosquitoes that often bite
Taking my learning to new heights
Small cups of afternoon chai
Clean clothes outside on a line to dry
Crazy driving of swerving rickshaws
I can’t help but to stand in awe
At the incredible energy of this place
Under the grim and dirt covering my face
I’m not trying to disgrace
But rather make a case….

For the beauty so alive here
On this side of the earth’s sphere
Nothing like I have ever known
Thankful I took a chance and flown
Far away from where I have grown
No access to a phone
Out of my safety and comfort zones
Putting my city life on postpone
And although sometimes I may groan
Or be scared to the bone
I’m setting a new tone
Going out alone
In order to reach my highest throne.