I. I walk upon what ceases to remain, Where neither wall nor beam was spared. I walk on broken glass of windowpanes On a night when no one else seems to care. I cannot tell a soul to protect my name, This house holds with it a burden of shame. I recount many a dream of this day, This rubble, this pungent smell in the air Of rage, agony, and sullen clouds of grey. I witness the aftermath of my nightmare. As I walk through the remnants and traces,...
When I was young, I remembered living in an old house. It was where my little brother first caught the chicken pox and then passed it on to me and my other younger brother. It was where I was forced to sit on a wooden chair and eat bananas, even though I’ve never been able to swallow one bite since my Gerber food days. It was where I lost my first goldfish, Fifi, and had to watch my mother lead the way – holding Fifi in a spoon –...
Home. Where is home? I thought of this and only then was I faced with the inevitable. “We’re going to move by the end of the year.” My father’s sudden words temporarily silenced me. I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to feel. “Do I have a choice?” I asked, afraid of what I knew he was going to say. “No,” he said quietly. He sensed my pain. He’s seen this look on my face before. But he too, had no choice. I tried...
