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Writer's pictureParam Nayar

Two Homes

Where is my home,

the walls where I belong

the spaces where I look around, and

I do not stand out as wrong


Why is this question so evasive

I have only ever lived in two places

But how is it that I choose, Between

old discomforts and new

the distant echos of childhood antics

or the new bonds forged here, far away

from the reliably easy laughter, which

was the soundtrack of my childhood


I listen now to the ringing bells

here in the first port my sailing ship docked in

But how is it that I choose, Between

the streets that made me who I am

or the streets where I show who I have become

Between the people who taught me

how to navigate this life

or the people I now sail these waters with


Maybe I ask the wrong questions

Maybe I don't choose

Maybe when I ask where is home

I answer here, and back there

I know I have a long way to go

and my sails are guided on these open waters

by the buffeting winds of life

and try as I might to navigate, I have

not a clue where I head

My captain's hourglass points me

to my two North stars

For I have Two Homes



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