Dilruba Ahmed
We have
always wanted
a way home—
a way home
to that house
in the forest
a house by turns
loving and cruel
if only because
to love
is to suffer
inconsolably.
To be eaten
alive by it.
We want
we eat we feel
too much.
A reluctant
abandonment
but we are
orphaned
nonetheless.
We still need
the steaming food.
We still long
for the blankets
the soft
soft beds…