Home, as it should be

by Camilo Malagón

But I am no longer I anymore,
nor my home is any longer my home
- Federico García Lorca

Home, as it should be
Home, in all its details and its glory
Home, in all its colors
 
Paris Berlin New York
Buenos Aires Bogotá
São Paulo New Orleans
 
Home, in all its possible and
Impossible ways
Home, as the navel,
The beginning
And the end.
 
Home, as in the song
The deep southern humid
Acres of swamp.
Home, as my voice
 
Home, in all its letters and all its words
 
Home home home
Home home home
 
Home, as a chant, as a calling, as a refuge and a ruse
Home, over and over again
Until it stops being home.
 
Home, and all of its lights, and all its sounds
And its verdant, luscious, treacherous green by the waves,
And its dusty dilapidated buildings casting down their gazes
 
Home, as in the language
I lost.
 
Home, as it never is again
Home, in all its ruin-like beauty
 
Say it with me, just once more,
 
Home.