long walk home

home is far.
the feet know their way
but they may not carry.
is it that easy
to cordon off my hearth?
unlike you, my home
keeps its doors open
dissolves its borders
in my heart.it remains
the lullaby my two year old
Tara closes her eyes to,
at night when the streets are empty
and the dogs lie beside us.
i look at her.and then at the stars
to guide me.their twinkle jars.
the morning sun is all heat and dust.
like i am to you.perhaps, tomorrow
you will wake up to me.
my little one atop these
tired shoulders will still smile
at you through the hunger
on her face, that you mistake
for dirt.and maybe you will
let us pass.or give us a ride.
it is my destiny to remember,
yours the luxury to forget
that i am the cement
of the citadels that
you look down from.
with pity and disgust.
i can hear your tv blaming me.
i hide from the sirens, and
from infected gazes.
i am not the affliction.
there are no buses.the train
we came by six years ago
stands deserted at the yard.
my cracked lips cannot
afford even a wry smile
when my Tara asks-
'even the train is home,
why can't we?'