From the Unlit Hearth


From the unlit hearth of my home–

Unlit because it’s not cold here for a flame–

From where I can see how tall my castle is

Where I live my days in perfect freedom;

From the parlour space where we sit together

To praise life or curse fate;

From the medium windows allowing a gaze

With no fortress or battlement to stay enemies

Except a mud-and-stone wall to please neighbours;

From the clean floor on which I walk barefoot

Dreaming my time away,

Or hurrying for my supper that’s getting cold

Before I snuggle under the sheets

For a blissful tropical sleep dreaming…

Of fairies in other lands and the jinn

And the adorable Santa Claus;

From the kitchen, the domestic stethoscope

That shows the living rate of the home;

 

From the ears of the house wherever they are

That let in early morning sounds

Of bird and cricket calls;

From the eyes of the house wherever they are

That capture life=giving daylight…

 

I salute the good fortune of each one

Who is spared the lot of the homeless.

 

 

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