Exodus

We  used to live by an ancient Roman road
where chalk gave way to clay
then to grandfather’s fertile garden,
  lemon trees and vines.

Now we walk in the footprint of the Legions
passed the iron age fort
toward the setting sun, squinting into the night
for signs of good fortune; an eagle wheeling westward home.

As we awake to the scent of dew,
passed the place where Brutus met his end
  a nation walks away from the homeland,
it’s web of common roads and famine.

How can I leave my land
where I loved nothing more
than flying a kite with my children,
wiping the oil off of wild pistachio fruit?

My legs grow stronger now,
carrying our burdens to Roman land
thinking not of return from whence we came
for my son is smiling, wild berries bleeding on his teeth.

.