In Exile

I have no real home. 

I carry my life on my back 

and turtle-walk to the next morning.

I am the sunrise and the sunset.

I do not have residence in the day.

Or the night. I am a shadow.

Turn too quickly, I am gone.

I am spring flowers, summer heat,

autumn wind, winter snow.

You think I am forever.

I am only the blink of an eye,

an obsolete passport. 

I will never return

to my mother’s womb.

published in Sonnets to Sing