Saturday, 19 September 2015

At The Last Gate

The war 
Took mama’s arm and 
three walls of our little blue house.
The journey
Took five chocolate bars and my favourite doll,
And now I See Purple blisters on baba’s feet and-at night-
Tear streaks on mama’s cheeks. 
On the way we play a game where 
each gate is the next level 
we have to unlock
And baba says some guards will be meaner 
than the others
That on some days there will be no bread and 
our shoes might tear
But that’s okay, 
It’s all part of the game and 
we need to keep our eyes open while walking,
not stopping to smell the yellow flowers
because at the last gate
There is a warm bed, waiting, with soft pillows, 
And blankets to cover my shivering legs.
At the last gate we don’t have to beg and 
At the last gate we can stop walking and rest 
At the last gate mama and baba will smile 
And At The Last Gate 
I can close my eyes.

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