Homelands

In the shape of shadow

In the light from windows

With the motionless trees

On the afternoons without wind

I only imagine the dusty, dry grass

And memory fills in the hills and monsoon

I remember my people, not friends,

Barefoot rivals on the rich red clay

In between the stone path shrubs

They smell of toddy

But we share a spirit, a history

Though from different sides

They will not forget that cruel division

Why did you take it? My language,

Misery, meaning, death

Like theirs, all in a village, for melennia

Better to be humble in your lands

Than fighting elsewhere

Isolation

They do not hear me, my voice is hoarse

I look at the mirrors and no one looks back

In the void I am empty, formless

In the silence, you lose your strength,

Your bones will break, your mind burns away

Slipping away, melting in an empty self

I have nothing left to say

The lands

The bare root of the plantations are white
like the hooves of the raiding deer
a crack of thunder in
this season of morning dew
more unfathomable than the waters
and clouds by the mountain slopes
between breaths, I burn.