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Poem

The slum that birthed me,
Is where love and loss huddle close, side by side,
Shanty houses crowded, wall to wall,
Yet love’s essence bloomed, unyielding and clear,
Tin roofs, mud walls, unpaved streets, filth embellished in disarray,
In that savage realm, where Violence law, and Deceit lingered, a norm,
Shouldered my fears and nurtured my hopes breathing purpose into existence,
That was HOME.

I recall days when we played till midnight, boundless and alive,
Recall how together we waited, hand in hand, sharing meals, in simplicity,
When on tempestuous nights we stayed up, collecting each droplet from leaking ceilings,
In happiness despite our unfortunate bind,
In that savage shantytown,
That was HOME.

Now, my soul languishes, a captive, far from its Home,
Confronting the harsh realities that fate has bestowed upon me
In this realm where Justice law and Virtue norm,
Amidst lofty buildings and paradise-like gardens,
Yet within its grandeur lies a cold emptiness,
I’ve come to realize that Home transcends mere walls,
For it is the very abode that emancipates one’s soul.

The slum that birthed me is not just a slum,
Within its alleys narrates epics of Strength and Survival, of Hope and unwavering Resilience,
That slum, a reminiscence sweet as nectar, a testament that liberated my soul,
And that was HOME

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