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.



Epilogue.