Nowhere Familiar Poem by Miss Tee

I am a stranger in my own family.
We share blood,
but not understanding.

I sit at the table
and feel like a guest
who stayed too long.

They speak,
and I nod.
But my thoughts
have no home there.

I am a stranger in this country.
The streets are loud,
but none of them say my name.
I learned the language,
but not the belonging.

Even the sky feels borrowed.

And in religion —
I stand in sacred spaces
and feel nothing sacred
reach for me.

I learned the prayers.
I memorized the words.
But faith feels like
a coat tailored for someone else.

I am too different
to be fully accepted,
too similar
to fully leave.

So I exist in between —
not rejected loudly,
just never fully claimed.

It is a quiet exile.
No war.
No dramatic departure.

Just the slow realization
that everywhere I stand
feels temporary.

And I am tired
of being
the almost.