Lament from an immigrant

Breathing the same air as you,

I do not take what you take from it.

Walking through your crowded markets,

your noise does not touch me.

Can I not hear your common song?

Rudolph, the ugly duckling,

the little matchgirl, me,

feasting our eyes

on your festival of camaraderie

in a strange tongue.

I float on your sea of oneness,

I am the dewdrop on your harmonious leaf,

variegated but one nonetheless.

I am a molecule of oil in water.

Having escaped my cousins,

I bounce against you, mercilessly. 

How many of you there are!

Why can we not bond?

Can there be no bridge between

the shores of our souls?