Poetry

June 7, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

unhcr photo

 

By

Claire Weiner

 

 

 

Dust

 

 

I’ve always known dust,

but now it’s all I know.

 

I no longer count days or months, pay

attention when trucks arrive and mamas

step down with babies attached- the babies

who miscalculated time and place to be born.

 

Some call this home but I refuse –

it’s just an intersection of dusty coordinates

where I landed with Lubna, Hiba and Kimal

so many seasons ago.

 

It’s where we wait endlessly, for kisra, bread, milk in a box.

and for the convoy that never takes us home.

We wait.

 

 

 

 

 

Claire Weiner

Claire Weiner is a clinical social worker in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She began writing when her children left home. She writes poetry, short stories, and nonfiction. She has been published in Bear River Review, Versewrights, Muddy River Poetry Review, After Hours and Burningwood Literary Journal.

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