This angst must be worse, particularly when you know you may never see home again. Day before yesterday, eight people were beheaded in a foreign land for crime they may have or have not committed.
The court proceedings were conducted in Arabic, the defence was less than perfect because their story was never told. Those eight Bangladeshi probably watched in complete despair and helplessness as the people around spoke and gesticulated in lightening Arabic and made an example of them... because they could and because nobody else wished to dispute the accusations nor listen to their cries.
Following is a short poem I wrote that I imagine went through their minds.
*
A lonely goodbye
A soft touch stirs me awake,
Feel a lingering kiss on my face.
My senses curl towards the source
Crashing and breaking into a smile on my face
I open my eyes to understand I am not home
(The place where my heart yearns to be)
The sun's rays are bright already
I am late... even when I have no place to go.
I see the world around
This is not me nor mine
But that of an adopted place
Promised only for a short while... so long, long ago
A deep sigh escapes from my chest
A breath tinged with a bittersweet ache
Of melancholy and surrender
Where is my home? and why am I here?
I feel suddenly homesick and tired
Even as home promised me nothing
But an end to this once upon a dream
Along the crashing waves of foreign waters
The change I seek simmers...
It wafts and bobs on the horizon
Almost within eyeshot
But just beyond reach of expression
How do I really feel?
When my feelings are but faint and unsure
What do I really want?
But what I already do not have in my heart
Home? Where is this place I pretend?
Is it not wherever I find myself?
I am a fool to think that it is a place
When I know it was a just another prison
The real prison, however, is my poverty
My voice drowned everyday in sweat
Never loud to be heard
Never noticed as that of a man
I hear the words that condemn me
Shoot out from mouths that talk in tongues
I am sorry, I do not understand
But the sounds from my lips bounce of the deaf walls
The public square I know so well
Many a times I have walked passed
My consolation is that least my brethren understand my tears
And can my acknowledge my final goodbye... and I their's
Home is where my soul will go
To bleed an eternity in the pangs of those who cared
I look back at the years before
To put a brave face to my despair
The mind plays tricks
Like by a street magician
A cheap sleight that fails to fool
Yet makes my lips curve to foolish grin...
The soft touch of sharp steel stirs me
I think I feel the instance of a kiss on my neck
My senses curl towards the source
As it crashes and finally wipes the smile off my face.
At long last, I am going home.
No comments:
Post a Comment