My home still stands,
but I cannot deny the snakes.
They are no longer in the shadows
they have crawled onto the walls,
reached the windows,
and coiled around my home, around my country.

I know this.
I have seen it.
And it is this knowing that has exhausted me.

Sometimes I close my eyes
not out of ignorance,
but to catch a breath
from the weight of this truth.

In the darkness behind my eyelids,
I build a home that is still safe,
a sky that is still blue,
and birds that still dare to fly.

But this dream is not escape
it is a brief pause,
so I do not break.

Because when I open my eyes,
the snakes are still there.
The fire still burns beyond the window.

And this time,
I know that closing my eyes
will not save anything.

There is fear.
There is exhaustion.
But there is also a choice

to lose myself in the dream,
or, with all my trembling,
remain the owner of this home.