The Unpacked Suitcase

In the quiet corner, it patiently waits,
A half-packed suitcase, a silent, leather heart.
One buckle loose, anticipating distant gates,
While roots unseen still tear themselves apart.

A shirt unfolded, a well-worn book on top,
A constant whisper of a journey's urgent call.
Yet, in its stillness, the deep desire to stop,
To shed the burden, and embrace it all.

It holds the tension, a restless, open maw,
Between the comfort of the known embrace,
And the horizon, governed by no law,
A longing for an undiscovered, foreign place.

A passport peeks, a ticket half-concealed,
A yearning for the unfamiliar air,
While every dust motes on the floor revealed
The tender pull of what is cherished here.

It dreams of stations, bustling, loud, and new,
Of foreign tongues and landscapes yet unseen,
But wakes to sunlight, morning's gentle dew,
Upon the window, where familiar greens convene.

A constant echo, in its quiet, waiting form,
Of paths untaken, and the roads ahead,
A shelter from the coming, restless storm,
Or a warm haven, for a weary head.

It symbolizes choice, a lingering debate,
The yearning spirit, ever poised to roam,
Or the quiet heart, accepting its own fate,
And finding solace in the concept of home.

- Khushi Kaul