Sweet, Homeland - Poem by Noorie Ali
Most days when I walk down my estate
Quite streets on a winter’s morning
With grey misery clouds.
A load of red coloured leaves.
Empty tree trunks.
Brown, dry, and lifeless.
As i stroll out on the main road and watch the heavy traffic go by.
On a journey running like wild ants on a mission to get to a destination like zooming tigers rushed away.
I walk along further, I see a child blazing happy thoughts envisioning a cheer on her plum lips.
Her eyes glowing like sunshine on a rainy day, she runs to school or some place else.
Leaves her tender footsteps in the dark dirty mud.
I walk further I see more and more pigment; I see horse stables, greenery, industrial- estates, recycle centres. And tall antique structure’s
I watch the tiny community gather closer.
At the top on the Yorkshire Mountains.
I collect a dozen photos in my mind like painting a picture with intense detail.
Shadow upon shadow, wind flowing calm, my eyes liquid numb but sparking.
Rummaging for vibes that celebrate glee.
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