home is where the hurt is


the root aches for the sky
and earth sought, by those who fly
the tears run away from the eye
and lovers part ways without a sigh

no one knows where home is anymore
where they come from, or where they arrive
neither anchored nor adrift
the globe rotates and clocks vaporize

the poet sits still while seeking around
an island wet, in a sea that’s dry
where all that he lost can still be found
where a beloved waits, and hopes reside



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