In my head a homeland

Thoughts swirl in your head, in my head, my home.

I cover it from the shells with my bare hands, I move it, take it

with me, shorten it into a bag, rush with it and take refuge

from death and missiles.

My home spins in my head, its details, its scent, its colors

mixed with the sunset. How can it be something ordinary while

I possess it? How can it be something ordinary when I long for

it? We don't long for ordinary things. Longing signifies that a

part of you is missing, not here. A part of you is in danger,

incomplete, it could vanish forever at any moment, so you hide