1 min
Image of 2019
Image of Poetry

There is hurt here

But there is hope too

These walls were built with both

And they would crumble without either

Home—Less a place though 

I wish it was. real walls 

I’d seen forever and not metaphorical ones

I’m writing about. my family,

but I want to write about the town I’m supposed to call my own:

My father’s hometown, I’ve never seen with adult eyes. 

That town is now the home of fear

of concentration and extermination. 

Home—less a place though 

the family 

it is threatened all the same. 

Home—less a place though 

wherever my mother’s voice is 

a place

wherever my sister’s laugh is 

a place 

whenever my father’s smile is 

a place

is home.


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