we return home
when it is time
does not matter
how we scratch walls
scrape curtains
or crawl in melancholy
in the abandoned land
it will not only open its gate
until it is satisfied with
our reinstated loyalty
something we sold so
carelessly and cheaply
in the flea market
in exchange for the illusionary
freedom of French soil
we left it behind
in the dust
to chase luxuries and find
friends for life
we may return to it
or for it
but in its time,
this time.
Stay with
Prerna ЁЯЩВ
