Home?

By Saanchita V

Everyone was once a seed

Branched now by caste and creed

Scars and wounds as price to feed

Deaf ear to all those who plead

Countless unanswered prayers

Wails turned whispers

Tears from flares, agony or pain?

Cities stripped off its glory and grain

Feeling lost as if in a maze

Searching for that saving grace

Is this real or all a daze

All that’s left is just haze

Creases run across the hand

All that’s left is barren land

Laughter tucked away for generations to come

But who is left to call this home?

By Saanchita V