– 0 –
The translated Telugu version: ప్రియ శరణార్థీ! నా జీవితం ఇలా నడవనీ..
This poem appeared originally in The Saaranga Magazine HERE.
–
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 your life
through images in those makeshift towns,
Tell me, why is that the rain makes you cry harder?
With an inexhaustible supply of water,
I wash my roses in the sink watching for thorns,
While you will hedge those fences that’ll rip into your flesh.
My kids have all grown,
abandoning these slides in the backyard,
But do you see dusty carcasses of merry-go-rounds left behind midplay?
Politics aside,
I’m grateful I’m here,
Yet terribly guilty that you are still there.
Where you must be hunting
for bread for your family while fleeing homes for tents,
I am frivolous enough to dip the artisan chip into a bowl of guacamole.
Tonight, I’ll take pills to catch a wink,
while you find yourself undead,
After a night of rockets marching on your ear drums.
–
@renaeffendiphoto: Refugees huddled in the fields of Idomeni a small Greek town
–
Tomorrow,
I might go fishing in the waters
That will swallow you in the midnight storm as you cross the seas.
While you’ve been busy
walking to the end of the earth for a roof,
My time has been excessively occupied too.
“Where you headed?”
you might ask,
But until I fall off this life’s treadmill, I can’t stop to answer.
Sometimes, when I’ve felt desolately lonely,
I’ve paused to look for God,
to see if I can be loud enough across oceans for you to hear my love.
Just like you,
I worry about the plight of my children,
However, mostly behind their roaring new wheels.
When society tries to inspire me
to fight for your rights,
I silence its voice by claiming, “Charity begins at home”.
You might be dying to live in peace,
but I can offer my love,
Only just as much as I have for the stranger on the street.
So, let me dampen your spirit
that we will be friends,
When you call on me, I might act like I’ve never fought for your cause.
Because,
I am one and all thousands of you,
Are no one to me.
Because,
I am one and all thousands of you,
Are no one to me.
– 0 –
About The Article Author:
Hi, I’m Rachana. Its been my dream for years to do something to consciously create a better future where every one of us is excited about our own potential. My challenge to everyone is that they aspire for their personal best and leave a legacy of their work through their contributions to mankind.
One more thing. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel.
Will you join me on this journey of growth and transformation?
Namasté.
Poetry
Perceiving My Anthropology
- I don't know what moves him.I remember the day he came back home tohide his red eyes behind that newspaperafter 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 nature of...
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 I...
Yours Singularly – A Love Poem By Rachana
Want to listen to me read it? - Always close by my side, he mocks me.Calling the lack of endearment around me,self-inflicted.Late in the afternoon, at work,“This team of people around you just need you tobreak their bread”, he mulls. At the bar,he demands to...
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...
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...
Now – A Poem on Time
- Of all the things I have and can desire to have, my time on this earth, and the time my kids will have of mine is finite. I am mindful of that. What I am also painfully mindful is that I do not choose well how I spend it. As an adult, time and the freedom to...
Child Bearers of the World – What Remains – A Poem by Rachana
- A Poem on Loneliness, Loss, Survival, and Inheritance. - Distracted mothers create loneliness.Those children celebrate uncertainty.And out of the imperfect first steps,They quickly learn, no love is earnest. Fathers cry when planes disappear.Worlds unite to search...
Tea Rings – A Poem by Rachana
Listen To The Article:- There is the love of mother that needs no senses to feel its expression.And, that’s where I begin my journey of this life with you. In that vintage picture, I think of how you became a woman coming of age.Wounds of the uprooting I...
Temples in Our Hearts – A Poem by Rachana
- While others make smoldering burial grounds in memory,those who have never made promises to make us laughbuild their own temples in our hearts. Stories that don’t need our mother’s tongue at all,are these secret wishes that transcend cultures and...
Retribution?!?!
* If I knocked on your door for a cup of waterfor my parched throat,Would you be able to tell,I am not your next door neighbor..? If not, then, why this thirst for my life.. ???? * Near these foothills,of some of the world's coldest mountains..I...
I Can Muse a Poem
- The mother inside of me finds no shortage of spontaneity and wit.I can be surprisingly superfluous when I am lecturing my child. Trouble arrives when I call myself a writer, and that’s when I get deliberate.When I dictate myself to the writer’s rigor,...
Pathos.. A Poem On Caring For The Elderly
- The mornings hang here, until..I peek out of the window andhurry out of the house for the next door.. Determined to find an answer..I gently turn the key andpush myself into the hallway.. Moving past discolored leaves and curtains..I pass them, a lot of...
Questions, just ask!
Text or Call: 678.310.5025 | Contact: Fill Form
Bringing a Group? Email us for a special price!
Rachu I love to hear from you the depth of the poem!!
Thank you Seshaunty, by juxtaposing my life and the lives of many refugees who don’t have homes, I wanted to express the helplessness I feel for them and the complacency I feel about my own life.