The home we left behind


Let the crumbs fall where they will

for they remind you of thriving lives

within the sanctuary of home;

a place where you can just be,

where you return to after you’ve had enough

of the outside world,

where you are safe in the bosom of belonging.


But what happens when your home is invaded overnight?

When you suddenly are at the mercy of tyranny?

Do you flee?

Clutching onto the reminders of home?

Taking with you whatever you can?

Do the five minutes you manage to grasp onto feel more like five seconds?


Your grandmother’s ring, dried fruit, childhood photographs

carefully preserved in an album

your last few strips of medicine, a water bottle,

a handful of blossoms from your garden

in the naive hope that they will survive.

Copies of your degree certificates, your favourite perfume from the local market, echoes of laughter that once bounced off these walls.


And you leave; the light between the oceans as your only guide.


Snehal is a freelance writer and poet. Her work primarily focuses on her motherhood journey, memories of her own childhood, and the essence of everyday moments. She has an infectious laugh and a very loud mind. She is also a Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease warrior and creates awareness of the condition through her writing.

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