Not the Vatican nor the Rome
In my country
There was one more home
That wore the color of my own.
The city welcomed me, outlander
And treated me, foreigner
That painted self into a corner.
The streets demanded to be known
Forced to kiss the pain
Of keeping alone
Seeked for a homie
Hear the groan.
Across came a soul
Anonymous and unkown
Felt one of my own
The voice carried the tone
That comfort me in the same zone
The mortal cared, reaped the seed
Of the trust that being sown.
In the times of clock
Wee hours assist my moan
Helped me sob and groan
Anguish my heart roared
Cry everyone ignored
Faith restored
Trust bestowed.
Despite the malady explode
The love got poured
The path led to the road
To the four walls where heart abode
And boundaries where none implode.
A soul by now
Only i would know
Treated me as her own
Space everyone chased to fall
Little did they know it was her call
To make the space for small
Nurture life that leaned against the wall..."
- Pushkin Channan
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