Home Is Where The Heart Is

I’m at grandma’s house:
where I played, learned to cook, sow,
always drew, stayed.
Now I’m at my home;
where I sleep, eat, go to school.

My cousins and I are crying.
Grandpa has sold all the goats,
all the horses, chickens, pigs,
the three cows and geese,
the school of ducks.
He sold the land.
He sold my home.
He sold my childhood.

I can’t go back though I know how to get there.
It pains me that the new house is
five minutes away
from my childhood.

I realize that back then there was
no choice but to sell the land.
I’ve realized it, but I don’t comprehend the full reason
Why.

Now I see how my [house] isn’t
where my childhood, my happiness, rests.
My memories will haunt the place.
Remembering, it’s clear now; grandma’s was
my home.





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