What is home:
it is the shade of trees on my way to school before they were uprooted.
It is my grandparents’ black-and-white wedding photo before the walls
crumbled.
It is my uncle’s prayer rug, where dozens of ants slept on wintry nights, before it was looted and
put in a museum.
It is the oven my mother used to bake bread and roast chicken before a bomb reduced our
house to ashes.
It is the café where I watched football matches and played –
My child stops me: Can a four-letter word hold all of these?
*
Thank you.
Thank you for this heartbreaking few words.