With a milestone for a pillow
with hard asphalt for a mattress
I’m ready to make my way home
through this midday heat, and darkness;
the borders are closed to traffic
they have slammed shut their gateways
and a mushroom cloud is churning,
turning the hamster wheels of days.
But I wear my face lighthearted
I keep the talk convivial
and the laundry colour sorted,
a close focus on trivial.
For the rules mustn’t be broken
and life must always go on
though home’s no longer a shelter
all meanings and routes are gone.