Taking all of the will, not so easily mustered
Mixing it with goodbyes, tears of guilt,
Lamenting the minutes just gone by,
Each second, each step, closer to isolation.
Marina whispers in the queue,
"Flying away from dispair, losing all of you".

Cutting the string with a home,
A life lived, familiar, with comfort.
The landscapes are carved, patchwork to be taken,
No waste to be seen in miles of new pastures,
Mapped our for us to explore.

Riches existing in snapshots of ruins;
Museums, halls, walking tours.
Dynamite rolls, caesars galore.
All that is waiting to be conquered
Before one returns to the wars.

The first stop rows of people traffic,
No red lights as warning signs.
Everyone waiting in line, to reach a plateau of thinking,
Willing to bask in newer time.
Crowds gathered to be "social",
All too aware of been seen,
The green paper flashed across tables,
A lifestyle no longer a dream.
To impress one must boast of acquaintances,
so rich you seem to know of success.
To matter became a fast contest, we will name it
"Who knows who best".

Next came the immigrants natter,
There was always a "when will you go?"
Marina observed such behavior,
Unwilling to reveal her horror show.
Forms prepared as leaves of security,
Languages took on new stature.
The boss controlled the fate of the non native,
How strange to have so little control.