that drives you to your knees,
it is the arrow
that punctures your lung,
to leave you drowning
in your own blood,
the long, serrated knife
that slides past your ribs,
cleaves your liver,
and stays.
Home is where you learn
the difference
between being humbled
and being humiliated,
your face in the dust,
bile up your nose,
vomit in your mouth,
with neither honour
in your right hand,
nor hope
in your left,
just a close, clear vision
of dirt.
Home is the hammer.
