14/10/96 - 4/4/97

Home

She walks on, bowed
but unbroken, in black
Her strong fingers grasping
with strength, her shopping

far removed from her youth
her back is hunched, her face wizened
by the same sun miles away

she remembers the trip, the humiliation
she's told all her grandchildren of the sorrow and joy
the Escape and the torture
as she left Home forever,
in body, but never her mind.

She is there now,
walking the fields of Southern Italy
blue skies as now,
hot and dry.

her younger legs are running,
too fast for the others
wanting to be caught
legs now bowed, but not broken

she walks on.
not to Home,
rather to home
she walks on