(Alter)ation

Home is where the blood Red light shines
from
the alter of my ancestors.

Home is where the burning incense
timidly tickles
my nose when I step into the ruby room.

Home is where I must pray
under a
Nation
under
a God.

Home is where I bury my head
on my clenched fists
on moisty classroom
desks.

Home is where I bury my head
to the symphony
of prayers to
Him
after the Fall of
Two Towers.

Home is where I pray
to Them,
and,
not Him.