I’ve not actually written a poem in maybe decades. I used to write them all the time. And they used to come to me. Then it stopped one day… or week… or year. It just fades like so many things do. This came to me the other day, ‘though the words themselves were written just moments ago.

leave the motherland.

find a new home.

put up the flower painting.

sweep the floors.

one on the way.

another one here.

free to move.

free to park.

unwelcome.

block the road.

leave the motherland.

you are the oppressor.

i am the victim.

leave the motherland.

again.