Wednesday, August 24, 2011

across the boundary ...

A golden land with eucalyptus grove,
blue screaming birds in the yellow sky,
America; the land of dreams
peep through cedars and dazzling roads.
"Mother should come and stay with us,
isn't it lonely for her there?
And then, life is so troublesome in this land,
slogging and struggling to collect every penny,
coming home, cooking and washing
and now the baby!
We need someone to take care,
Afterall, you can't trust anyone here!"

Above, the sky bleeds its last red tinge
and the sea gives up to the dark.
Mother waits;
the longing in her eyes, fettered
among the green smell of a far away land of the Ganges.
The perfect round red circle on her forehead
reflects paddy field and a smell of raw undug soil.
For Mother, the rising Sun, at once its setting seven seas across,
history, flapping like a serpentile forked tongue in her heaving chest.

Between the lands, time ticked away.

Her tongue, a stiff embarrassment in her mouth;
her hasty wiping away of tears,
"dearest son, take me back to my land, my house needs me"
hangs like the bewildered clock;
her eyes wait
beyond the gurgling waves of the ocean,
for someone
to take her home,
where she was born.

Notes: - the diasporic plight for the elderly generation is still strongly prevalent even in this present day close knit global structure. They would have their longing for their homeland, struggling and striving to adjust with a foreign tongue and an alien society, caught perpetually into an in-between nowhere zone. After all home is wherein lies the heart and not the foot.

posted for


The Unknowngnome said...

Poor mother in her longing, poor son in his love, a dilemma.

Pat Hatt said...

A wonderful story filled piece, very nice!

Rose said...

You have described the longing very well! Once again, you have created a work of art, my dear Celest )

Brian Miller said...

home has a huge pull..a place in the heart and soul...i can relate to her for sure...smiles.

Natasha said...

You write with a strong sense of story and place...a true weaver of worlds with the power of the written word. Thought this a wonderful write, and fell prey to the fantastic images painted!

Claudia said...

oh i can feel place like home esp. when getting older... said...

I enjoy your poetry. It's raw and real. It speaks life we can all relate to. I agree with Pat Hatt's sentiments.

ayala said...

This my friend took my breath away, wonderful and sad.

Mary said...

A beautiful poem in its realism. Sad truths for so many elderly. Yes, home is where the heart is!

Leslie said...

As one who helps to care for her elderly mother, I thank you for the reminder to honor her feelings. It's hard, sometimes, for both adult children and elderly parents to find respect and balance - but a worthwhile endeavor.

fiveloaf said...

really no one to trust there? oopsy that's terrifying! here's my entry anyway:

Marbles in My Pocket said...

Awesome writing! You tell this story brilliantly. I can understand the turmoil, though I've not left a country of my birth, I have felt that longing for home and family. Very good poem!

My entry:

Ann LeFlore said...

Such great writing and such a wonderful story

Morning said...

thought provoking.

Mehlynn said...

compelling write about the immigrant's experience, nice!

Happy gooseberry day!!

sajeevkmenon said...

You have captured the feelings of a lot of people who are torn between a foreign land and their homeland:)

Jack said...

C D,

I could not have put these emotions any better. It is truth. It is not easy even for young ones to settle down fully in land away from own. The memories remain and at time longing to be back is there.

Take care