hiraeth
By Mohamed A
Published 28 May 2021
in the trees,
an unseen voice beckons for me
to return to my roots, wherever they may be.
and as the trees begin to break
under a slight rain,
a resentment in me begins to wake
of the saboteurs
that had turned my home into ruins.
how bad had the rain been for such destruction?
the petrichor remains hanging in the air, a cruel reminder of what we no longer have.
may their sins not be forgotten
and perhaps they can see
how they had broken the roots
and soon there will be no home to return to.
in the trees,
there is no voice
and there is no home, only your garbage and selfishness.