This place so familiar
the banyan tree with its drooping branches~
I see a swing amid the cobwebs of my mind
and hear squeals of laughter and my voice,
‘make it go higher’!
This courtyard with slabs of grey stone
sheets broken with unruly grass along
my naked dancing feet convey words unspoken!
These men with their hungry eyes,
remind of a time when a little girl on the swing;
taken by force, her mouth covered–
away from her brother, cutting all ties!
Ugly men, chewing betel leaves,
gnarled hands and joints, smoking pipes,
my body keeping rhythm with ancient music
my eyes closed, my memories like movies
flashing in and out, crying for common identity.
And now I see a pair of old eyes–
behind old beaten blinds of a window, spread apart
with thin brown fingers: a fleeting wave of identity–
My breath in my chest, tight like a vise
lets out a sigh——–
Those old pair of eyes, they belong to my mother!!
ZSA © Oct. 2016.