Home, soon.

I took Rumi from my shelf
opening it at random, out fell the polaroids
taken at the asphyxiated airport
I look at myself.

and I see nothing.

All I see is him, my brother
teary-eyed whilst trying to smile
his eyes so sad
back then he still cared.

Days shrunk into weeks, melted into months
I kept calling and he kept waiting
each time he says, "You come home."
each time I'll say, "Soon, soon."

but not anymore.

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P.S.  I'm going back for winter break. Maybe that's why he doesn't mind my not calling. Ah, I miss him.