Sunday, August 16, 2009


exile from
exile to
on main street
and mean streets

exile from a life you dreamed of
a life you worked hard for
a life you were taught
a life you were raised to
a life you were meant for
a life planned and hoped for
a life that was supposed to be
a life lost

the scents coming through the curtains
sound of streets coming awake in the morning
being woken up by by tiny hands
seeing the same faces
grow and wrinkle
earning and buying your bread
in the same factory
from the same bakery

to a life after
a language not known
to the sounds of foreign streets
this city full of strangers
a life you do not know and cannot grasp
a life of cardboard boxes
an emptied apartment
a life of aching temples and sleepless nights
a life never prepared for
a life of learning anew

exiled by a woman
exiled by a war
a dictator
a dream
a mistake
a time

exiled to starting all over with no map and and a banged up compass

to a new

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful language
    Beautiful poem
    A toast to the new beginning!