*

 

The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city.. 

 

*

 

At day break, I wait for your shrill cries of laughter to pierce my ears..
I ponder while I drink the primary cocktail,
a gleaming red sun, the blue sky and the green field..

The train passes by mocking at me.. It’s whistle..
tells me a story of how you disappeared in the dark of the night..
I tell him, you and I are friends.. And that we are inseparable..

I decide to wait.. longing for a glimpse of
the farmer, the cart, the buffalo, a nursing mother,
the sounds of the mud vessels, the village gossip..

My afternoon in the tedium,
I stare at the vast earth in front of me..
An old man rests, but no tractors cough nearby..

I look down, the chalk from the hopscotch has washed away..
My feet that had endured the charcoal from the bonfire..
have grown weeds..

I stand still to hear the harvest celebrations.. I hear none,
then I know,
it is just not going to be the same without you..

In time my leaves will go away, I will wither and die,
But for now, they promise to come back next spring..
To be dressed up in green and to dance on my arms..

My brothers have all perished and caused a crying flood..
Just as they were,
I will be parted and uprooted from my earth..

The wind picks up my anxiety, her embrace is wild and warm..
As it runs through my branches, I feel strangely lovely..
‘C’est la vie my dear’, she says and smiles..

So, just for the rock record, let me tell you,
I love you and I miss you.
And wherever life has taken you, I only wish you the best..

And if you ever choose to come back,
and I am still standing,
I won’t spend your money and some, my friend, and there isn’t the worry of a rush hour..

 

*

 

2010: For the next four decades, every minute, 31 Indians will arrive in an Indian city like Mumbai for the lure of its big city charm.

2012: According to data from the Housing Assistance Council (HAC), only about 21 percent of Americans live in rural areas.

Picture Credit: Timo from morning hour

 

* * *

Poetry

In the Age of Dank Memes, Why Read Poetry?

In the Age of Dank Memes, Why Read Poetry?

* Just A String Of Words?   A good poem demands the dignity to be understood. History repeats in its resounding words. Repetition is a poem's strongest flavors. Poems are words with life because they're current and most urgent with their message to humanity. Yet,...

read more
The Mother Of All Emotions

The Mother Of All Emotions

*   Before you think you can put a finger on love, Think of the time you saw the size of the butter stick in your mother's pie. Think about how all your life, you'll work hard enough to make your mother proud, Yet, you'll...

read more
The Emigrant’s Anthem

The Emigrant’s Anthem

* I   Pursuing dreams, First steps Beckoning opportunities, Across oceans Proud sacrifices, Glistening eyes   * II   Anxious freedom, Fertile memories Loyal sentiments, Burning dedication Liberating happiness, Humbled notions   * III  ...

read more
You Know You’re a Mom When..

You Know You’re a Mom When..

*   You've wondered about your fear of death, when the only thing you have always been petrified about is your child digging into that forbidden closet or the bathroom cupboard to find out the secret stash of “things”? You've looked down on the bathroom floor to...

read more
The Many Predicaments of a Single Woman

The Many Predicaments of a Single Woman

*   She walks as a liberal icon among people who don’t realize their thoughts are their barbed wires. She'll march the streets for the disenfranchised, and maybe for those born with ugly faces, but not for them who have the talent for picking the wrong men. What...

read more
Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time

Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time

*   It’s not the lack of money that makes me cry like my heart is about to burst. You want to know what it is?   It’s something you have or don’t more than I do, because there’s no straight finish line here. It ticks away silently mocking our indignant ways...

read more
When Home Is Still Here And We Aren’t

When Home Is Still Here And We Aren’t

*   Unlike refugees, who don't have a home behind or infront of them, we have a home. But,   Will it remember all those mornings that the woodpecker made mating calls from its roof? How on sleepless nights, someone read and made notes from a borrowed J....

read more
ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ.. (Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..)

ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ.. (Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..)

* * * The original English version: Dear Refugee, my life must go on..  * నన్నల్లుకున్న వెచ్చని కార్డిగన్, మెత్తని నా అరచేతుల మధ్య పొగలు కక్కే ‘లికరస్’ టీ........... పౌర హక్కుల్ని పగటికలలుగా కనేందుకు ఈ నేపథ్యం సహజంగా లేదూ?   నువ్వూ, నేనూ పంచుకున్న ఆకాశం కప్పు క్రింద,...

read more
Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..

Dear Refugee, My Life Must Go On..

  It's not too unthinkable, sipping licorice tea in my cardigan, And day dreaming of a life of civil liberties.   Out of the window, I see stars coming out from under your sky, But on ground, I don't see the tears on your muddy faces.   I've only seen...

read more
Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time

Momentous: A Poem On The Value Of Time

*   It's not the lack of money that makes me cry like my heart is about to burst. You want to know what it is?   It's something you have or don't more than I do, because there's no straight finish line here. It ticks away silently mocking our indignant ways...

read more
Perceiving My Anthropology

Perceiving My Anthropology

*   I don't know what moves him. I remember the day he came back home to hide his red eyes behind that newspaper after he lit his mother's pyre. This is the man, the brunt of all my emotions, whose lifetime fits in this poem.   It's mostly the appalling...

read more
To My Estranged One

To My Estranged One

*   Ok, I admit; I still have that shameful longingness. When you gathered everything else up and left me to myself, And, when the war of words ended, It was clear that the love between us had begun to show cracks. It would never happen to me, was the conviction...

read more
Yours Singularly

Yours Singularly

*   Always close by my side, he mocks me.Calling the lack of endearment around me,self-inflicted.Late in the afternoon, at work,“All these people around you need you tobreak their bread”, he mulls. At the bar,he demands to knowwhy I hadn't invited myself to her...

read more
Still Standing, Still Standing..

Still Standing, Still Standing..

* The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city..  * At day break, I wait for your shrill cries of laughter to pierce my ears.. I ponder while I drink the primary cocktail, a gleaming red sun,...

read more
Dear Sons: Full Disclosure

Dear Sons: Full Disclosure

* A life's worth of choices. Subjected to, day in, day out. Freedom of expression. Empathy exercises. Vulnerability followed by weakness. Protection from cold. Letting the homeless die from it. Health of the children. Love. A gentle kind word. People who didn't give a...

read more

Questions, just ask!

Text or Call: 678.310.5025 | Email: info@futurestrongacademy.com

Bringing a Group? Email us for a special price!

%d bloggers like this: