Pooja Kundalia - Dear Montreal

There is something about you that brings me to the root of my being, 

Not roots like those of a petaled flower, barely scraping beneath the surface, 

But those of an old oak tree, 

With far-reaching branches that almost embrace the Earth’s core.

I do not know whether it’s the culture, the languages, the people, 

The slow living, fast enough to be a city– 

But not too city, if you know what I mean. 

When I am with you, I have the liberty to be a version of myself that is so truly me. 

There is art on the streets, in the air, in the sky. 

The snow sparkles like shimmering diamonds,

And in the summer, the streets are alive. 

A tapestry of people of all patterns: 

Some rough at the edges, 

Most smooth in the soul, 

And each thread woven between. 

There is a freedom here that cannot be denied,

A space to express the parts of yourself 

Many might not ordinarily find. 

Now, I feel like ice cream, 

My identity forever swirled with the taste of Montreal. 

Montreal, 

Thank you for helping me find myself. 

I am so lucky to call you home. 

And no matter where I roam,

You will never leave me, my dear Montreal.