Odes

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.

Autumn leaves fall,
helpless and soundless,
undisturbs the slumbers
of the ground beneath.

The tree stands in solitude.
no shelter of its own,
no shoulders to lean on,
braves alone winter’s cold.

Whispering winds
singing lullabies,
rock the leaves to sleep
in its cradle beneath.

Patient and unwearied,
ready to break free
from the shackles of time,
they await the moment.

They await…

There... amidst that field,
lying fresh and pure,
butterflies dancing wild and free,
I last felt the touch of her beauty.

There... by that river,
slithering smooth and naked,
currents playing the notes of life,
I last drank the wisdom of her innocence.

There... under that tree,
standing high and strong,
birds singing song of time,
I last shed the tears of her sorrows.

There... on that hill,
kneeling low and humble,
winds whispering the tales of yester-years,
I last saw her in her entirety.

There... beyond the Himalayas,
forever extending,
standing high and relentless,
lies she. Waiting...
forever waiting...