My home in a picture will tell you of pain Lying around unattended hedges Housing the venom of crawling creatures Harbouring long glass a defect to our hope My home in a picture will speak of itself Dancing and reciting to melodies of a future Invisioned and versioned in its infants Gathering around the fire listening to heroic gist of our ancestors Letting handshakes pass the elbow Reminding each other of who we are My home in picture will rattle of skeletons The remains of a future hoped for And painted in the sovereignty of a virus Burying one after one untying a desert of shatters My home in two words talks of a grim reaper Wiping our faith hanging dusty galleries of uncertainty Making jokes of our proclamations My home in question echoes the cries and groanings Of its people their expectations flooded by tear Unraveling defeat to their story unwritten