Poetry / To Love A Country
To love a country as if you’ve lost one
Is to feel the freezing sun on your body
Form icicles on your cheeks as you train your feet
To dance hopscotch on rough asphalt;
16 July 2021, 18:00 PM
Poetry / In My Mother’s Village, I Pluck a Mango
From the tree I’ve climbed only once
Years ago, at the height of childhood innocence
I scraped and bruised my way to the top
Monsoon soaking my skin
To survey this timeworn town
Of rusty tin huts and clay
I listened to the storm-created symphony on the roof
Nature’s old-fashioned xylophone
And as the storm grew heavy,
30 April 2021, 18:00 PM
To Love A Country
To love a country as if you’ve lost one
Is to feel the freezing sun on your body
Form icicles on your cheeks as you train your feet
To dance hopscotch on rough asphalt;
16 July 2021, 18:00 PM
In My Mother’s Village, I Pluck a Mango
From the tree I’ve climbed only once
Years ago, at the height of childhood innocence
I scraped and bruised my way to the top
Monsoon soaking my skin
To survey this timeworn town
Of rusty tin huts and clay
I listened to the storm-created symphony on the roof
Nature’s old-fashioned xylophone
And as the storm grew heavy,
30 April 2021, 18:00 PM