"No Man's Land"

I am a no man’s land

Severed and isolated

Limb to limb

After a contentious treaty

Clutching on to a patch of grass,

Carved out of parents, lovers and a husband.

This plot of land is often disorienting,

The roots clobbered, sharp and knobbly,

Not green, nor sap brown either,

With possibilities of growth.

With water filling my lungs,

In deep slumber I awaken,

To toxic fumes of shaming,

Of my body and mind.

In this no man’s land I’ll build

Myself a home.

Isn’t that what we all look for?

A home, not a house of

Empty bricks and mortar,

Peopled by ghosts and wisps

Of slippery memories.

I’ll build a home of grass and straw,

At one with nature,

Easily built, easily destroyed,

Suffused with lazy afternoon sun,

Of distant thoughts, and sprawling self-knowledge.

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