And Cry, Home! ! ! ! Poem by feroz rather

From the glass that is black

And our own cedars,

Gone mad to fragrance,

Should we compose a room

On the porch of our Home…



In our own window

They kill me, a young boy and

August rain and russet flowers

With green succulent stalks,

Break into it, break into us, break it into, break us into…



Pieces, would we leap from the

Debris of our grief and

Crystallize into one Heart, Home…



Through the knots,

Green, yellow, saffron brown

And the color of this land,

Of our torn language and the history

Of our shared pain, we leap,

Shards turned to ghosts and tie

Into the threads of the pain,

The life of our one Heart........





And cry, Home! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !