Lubaba Faisal Hassan

Image Credit: Palestinian artist Mahmoud Elkourd
Image Credit: Palestinian artist Mahmoud Elkourd

I had a home like fairy tales.

Smiles and laughter.

Some anger and sadness; spices of life.

Love and tenderness.

No hate or detest.

Plain walls that seemed colored to me.

Familiar faces, I can recognize with closed eyes.

A storm came, broke down the walls.

Freezing coldness; my blanket couldn’t heal.

Loud voices; my little ears couldn’t bear.

Stabbing words; I’ve never learned in school.

I packed and ran

To a place I only heard about.

I knitted the lines of stories I heard to one new story of mine.

Home has always been on my mind.

Sorrow found its way back to me.

Forced me to grow.

Bent my shoulders like an old woman.

A deep warmth inside me told me it will change.

That day will come when I find my way back.

Back to that home.

To those familiar faces I missed.

I walked down the same path I left.

Directions have changed.

Signs written in a weird language.

A language I can’t see or read.

I’m lost, or have I always been lost but never knew?

I finally arrive.

Exhausted and drained.

The house looks the same but it’s not home.

Faces are different.

Even my face changed.

I looked in the mirror but it wasn’t me.

I stretched my hands to find my walls turned into cages.

I hear angry shouts.

Same voices but different tones.

My hands have grown.

I can shut my ears now.

Still I hear them.

I ask for help.

Answers are lost.

They all want to find their way back home.

No one to guide us.

Stumbling over each other.

I can see home when I close my eyes.

A beautiful dream.

I don’t want to wake up.

Yet my eyes open.

I’m lost again.

The way back home is fading away.

I go wandering around.

But I can’t find my way back home.

This post is also available in: Arabic