It is.

 

I glance out the window

at the trees that will not

shed all of their leaves at once.

I know it is exhausting

to be me.

To lose something,

move after move, 

only to hope that it will

someday grow back.

The poem in the photo is a part of the novel Other Words for Home Jasmine Warga. It is a beloved book. I'd categorize it as a middle grade level about being Syrian, being an immigrant, being a Middle Easterner in the US, living in Cincinnati, learning a new language, leaving behind family, living through war, and other topics.

This poem is resonating with me right now. The words in italics after the poem are my own.