DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE Poem: Foreign Wonder, by Moana Doll

Not British enough, not Foreign enough,
Maybe European enough – whatever that means.
What’s my language?
And how many do you speak?

Some mornings, I wake speaking
Yesterday’s language to tomorrow’s dawn,
My dreams a patchwork of metro maps
And street signs I once called home.

It’s different things for different people.
I belong wherever I go
But the environment shifts beneath my feet
Like quicksand of expectations.

They ask where I’m really from,
As if truth could be contained
In a single point on their atlas.
I am from everywhere I’ve left pieces of myself.

“It’s just because you’re not from here,”
You say when I disagree
When I voice thoughts that don’t align
With your comfortable certainties.

These opinions aren’t European,
Aren’t German, aren’t foreign –
They’re mine.
Each thought
Breaking through borders
Like roots through concrete.

I’ll adapt but won’t conform.
I’ll translate but won’t transform.
Every new place paints me technicolour
Until I’m a canvas of everywhere I’ve been.

From city to city
Eyes down, eyes up
Whatever your gaze meets –
Lives a thousand beats per minute more
Louder and brighter
In this precious conglomerate
Of foreign wonder.