Living in Exile

Years after years, I packed and unpacked my share of belongings… Today I only left with my heart and Soul. And a choice to breathe in exile and still be happy… repost
The woman,
Has been sitting
Under a shower of rain,
On an empty bench
Having a meeting with
A shadow of her past.

Her mind travels back in time,
Passes all stop signs,
All roads that she had crossed,
All faces she had shared
Corner of her smile
Or drop of her tears.

All places
She had packed and unpacked,
Her half empty suitcases marked
With all different tags.

She arrived to her final destination,
The edge of the old dreams,
Old forgotten wounds.

The times in her life,
That colour of pomegranate
Was the highlight of her day,
And hide and seek,
Her favourite game.

To her school mates,
With all theirs jokes and laughs.
And loneliness of her heart at end of the nights.

To the land, she grew up in,
With no sense or a desire to belong.
And the legacy that sent her to exile,
First time she asked for the justice,
for a nonjudgmental act.

The memories revive,
The ones she tried so hard
To erase.

Yes, it has been a long exile.

The day, she departed,
They didn’t ask, how could one survive
The burden of exile,
Year after year,
Outside of the ordinary life.
In the empty desert
With no roots to hold on to.

She answered,
their unasked question,
Over and over
By rearranging her dreams,
By giving away her attachments,
By having faith in her call, staying true to her heart,
By living an extra ordinary life.

But how could one erase
the mark of the path of tears,
Over years, on her anonymous face?

The arrival of haunted memories,
Opens up the old wounds,
Pierces the remaining of her burnt heart
with no sense of kindness or compassion.

The need to search,
Beyond right and wrong,
Beyond reality and dream,
Beyond visible and invisible
Never left her thirsty heart.

Deep down, she knows
She never returns
To the legacy she had left behind.
Exile within her soul
Is the only place,
She belongs.

© Serena Devi, Jan 2010, Thornhill Canada

To my beloved land, Iran

People see us together,
Call our names loud,
Lovers, seeker of a hidden corner,
To make love.

Only the sun knows,
We are only strangers,
Live and walk in exile,
On the unmarked path
We are crusaders of the light.

Fire,
Bind us together,
Where no land,
Has the power
Or authority to accept
and promise us
A lifetime belong.
So we make houses on winds.
We write bestsellers every day,
Full of farewells and cry
for what we left behind.
We rehearsal and play
Our returning
From this long exile,
In different languages,
by our refugee men and women,
Everywhere.

Fire,
Bind us together,
When no water could move
Our tiny Islands
Closer to our beloved land.

We surrender,
To the forceful fate
Of separation,
By these unwelcome aliens.

We passed on
Our ideas, our hopes,
To true followers of the light.
The dream to unite again,
As one family and a nation.

Nothing could take away
The pain we felt
What we learnt from
Hardness of the last thirty years,
Living in exile
The ones stayed behind,
Have their own story to share,
Captive and chained
Whiped every day by terror and violence.
Living under the shadow of fear.

People say, nothing is left for us,
but I say, we still have ‘Us”.

Fire,
Bind us together,
People see us
As lovers, seek runaway place,
but we know
In our hearts,
Nothing could keep us apart
From our pride as a nation.
From Rumi, Hafez, Khayam,
From Nouroz and feast of love,
From our kind and hospitable culture
And our 2500 years of glorious history.

I never admitted before,
So clear, so loud,
That I love our land, Iran.

Perhaps, for now,
No water brings our separated Islands
In one place,
Close to our beloved land,
but we will gather together,
We all return, one day,
To our motherland, Iran.

We stay in exile,
but our longings live
In your north, in Caspian sea,
In your south, In Persian Gulf,
In the heart of Desert Lute,
Under Qashgai tribes’ tents,
Over Mount Damanvad.

It is our promise to you.
One day, we all return.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

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