Home Is A Four Letter Word
A poem on immigration.
Home is a four letter word.
Like born is, too.
It is something that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
You always feel better after getting out.
Home is my war-torn streets and the eyes of sunken men with sullen souls.
It is the blood of innocence shed in vain,
And left to course from the veins of our Fathers.
Home is an Exodus.
It is a liberation from bondage.
This boat is my Sinai,
Each row a new comandment.
Home is the first breath of air on new soil,
Feet stepped onto terra nueva.
It is a beginning.
***
About the Creator
E.K. Daniels
Writer, watercolorist, and regular at the restaurant at the end of the universe. Twitter @inkladen
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