Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Greens to Greys

I am of the kin
That grows up switching houses,
Filling them up to call our own.
In the same city, for five years
I had five homes.
Every time I'd leave,
I took a piece of it along.
The peacock feathers 
Shed in the backyard of one
Adorned the next,
Mom's hibiscus from one's garden
To another's walls.
My mere lifetime became a museum
Of doormats, lime paint and echoes in empty rooms
That reside safely 
In each of my bones
Like relics preserved,
Too precious to be displayed.
But I saw in movies 
And I saw in my grandfather, 
People I never understood
Who left pieces of their bones 
In homes,
Their hearts inside bricked walls,
Light wrecked to darkness
Like the concrete fours they lovingly built-
Until now.
Only my home is not guarded by brick walls
My home has no walls
It is vast open lands
That smell like freshly cut grass,
Clean air and chilly winds in September
My home looks like lush green forests
Residing April blossoms
And wide endless roads.
My home is not guarded by tall walls and wrought iron gates
It is guarded by greens on chests,
Combat boots,
Heavy metal on shoulders-
Infallible during mere earthquakes
That simple floods cannot corrode.
My home is not grey or white or yellow or pink
My home is green through and through
And for the first time in eighteen years,
I have been rendered completely homeless.


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