The Journalists Receive Medical Supplies
The Journalists sent a text to Congregation Emanu-El with their thanks
The return
we want back home, where we got our first grays
where the sky pours into windows in blue rays
where we planted a tree and raised a son
where we built a home that grew moldy without us
but the road back home blossoms with mines
needle grass and fog cover the open pits
we come back bitter, guilt-ridden, reticent
we just want our home back and a little peace
if only to go there, to breath the scent of mold
pulling yellowed photographs out of the family albums
we’re going home where we won’t grow old
parents and graves and walls waiting for us
we will walk back, even with bare feet
if we don’t find our home in the place where we left it
we will build another one in an apricot tree
out of luscious clouds, out of azure ether
Lyuba Yakimchuk, 2015