In the presence of absence

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No one can hide the pain from you; it is visible, tangible, audible like the resounding shattering of space. You ask: What does "refugee" mean? They will say: It is someone uprooted from their homeland. You ask: What does "homeland" mean? They will say: It is the house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, the first sky. You ask: Can a single word of three letters encompass all of this... and yet feel so confining? Love is not an idea; it is an emotion that heats up and cools down, comes and goes, an emotion that takes on a form and substance, possessing five senses and more... Love is what you don't know, and know that you don't know... My memory is a pomegranate; should I release it to you, seed by seed, scattering it upon you like red pearls befitting a farewell that asks nothing of me but oblivion?