winter morning ii

i remember the sound of the wind as i was falling asleep. the tree branches scraping the roof like people whispering. i arrived here one winter morning or maybe it was spring. i can't remember anymore. the mind plays tricks. papa had just died two weeks before. the ground was frozen where they dug his grave. mama left a note in my suitcase telling me to do something that would make her proud. to be a good man. there were so many winters. i came here because i wanted a home where i can find peace. where i can be treated like anyone else. where i can be anyone i want to be. it wasn't always empty. they all had to come down here. people would line up here

holding their suitcases and their children holding on to them for dear life. they were young people and old people

families

lots of them

they were completely alone. they waited their turn to reach the guard at the end of the hall. the guard would stamp your book and say go over there and welcome". i was one of them. when i got here i went into a huge room