Waking to a foreign experience
like a transplanted language
that spread through the city while I slept.
I used to trust myself to know the way
right turn, then straight, always on course.
Within my country, I thought I knew where I was.
Now my GPS offers no help. No translation available.
Consistent landscape. Buildings in place
yet unrecognizable to my inner navigation.
My compass now cracked, unable to orient
true North now lies
© Ali Grimshaw 2017