My Home Poem by Daniel Omaya

My Home



Grass-thatched
Termite-eaten
Weakly founded
Door less- that was my home.

Six steps away, the neighborhood
Four steps there, the latrine stood
And beyond, a bath shelter: that was my home.

Bombed in broad daylight,
Smoked to ash
Mopped out,
That spot was for my home.

Tree shelters in the wilderness
Verandahs and sports grounds
Now make up my home: Do I have a home?

Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: frustration
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