As the earth below me quivered,

I saw my home being razed,

My throat choked and I shivered,

Could do nothing and only gazed.

It was not the bricks I cried for,a

Nor the nifty things in, that lay,

But for the warmth those walls enclosed,

And the comfort that consoled me in dismay.

Now when I couch at night in the shoddy camps,

Under the sky, in marl and eeriness,

I prefer the flicker of the lamps,

Over the blue and this darkness.

Home…

It’s not a stronghold , it’s a winsome feeling,

I now know why they long for it, who have none

Home….

It’s a sentiment with the arm of healing,

I wish I had realised it much before I had lost one.