Deborah Leipziger
What is home
a house made of kites
and orchids bleeding
is home.
language and story
color is home.
home is story memory
and the bones I carry
a library where
books
bleed into each other
green valleys
cobalt feathers
golden letters on their spines.
I want
to let the stories pour into me.
I did not know that everything
would be taken away.
Only later did I learn that
my Grandparents sewed gems
into the hems of their clothing
for each border crossing.
