Nemoral, poetry by K.G. Munro at
Yaro Felix Mayans Verfurth



written by: K.G. Munro


There is no home when your car is your bed
And empty coffee cups replace your paycheck

Running from people with knives and hatchets,
Avoiding dirty needles on the streets

Exposed to the elements,
Blue fingertips from winter’s kiss

This is a battlefield, not an existence,
You decide to leave the city

For the woods that have been calling for you
You were raised rural

After this struggle, you decide to return to your roots
Claiming an abandoned wooden cabin as your own

Fixing the broken windows,
As you enjoy life amongst the greenest of trees

Turning this vacant wreck into a home,
From homeless to homesteader

The forest is the planet’s shelter,
One that accepts us all.

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