They say the postman
Comes here every Thursday
And goes there every Thursday.
And here I stand at last-
the other half of me lying
across that 3-Feet-Tall border.
No other fences grew
Except for the barb wires
Which along the border lay.
The birds above must find it queer,
my hands stretched desperate
to seize a piece of my land across.
And before I unite again, I must leave.
Yet I shall return, I promise,
Taller than the 3-Feet-Tall border.
My one half here
And the other half there-
Both in exile lie
Across that 3 -Feet -Tall border.
© Tenzin Jigdal
(*3 feet tall border refers to Nathu La indo-Tibet border in Sikkim)