Home? What? This place
where a wall can burst in,
a table fly and spin, glass
shatter faster than a flinch?
Home? Where? These hours
when calm and conversation
flash by like commercials
in a television series called War.
The cast changes in each episode.
A sister dies. A cousin disappears.
A father is killed. A brother.
A cat. A mother. A teacher.
Every hero appears just once.
The whole series may last
a season, a month, a week.
Someone else controls our schedule.
Home? How? When noise
of the drones disturbs our dreams.
Our beds and couches turn to ash.
Our wedding plans turn to funerals.
Home? Who? My little sister
dreams and despairs of traveling,
of studying, working, spending
quiet hours not counting seconds
until the next bomb bursts our walls.