MY POEM "HOMELAND"

                                       

FOR  JANUARY 19, 1990 , THE DAY WE WERE EXILED  

This Hudson Riverfront in Jersey  City has given birth to my five poems on exile . One titled ," Homeland" goes as under 

(Homeland ) 

When I was young, 

Father once said this to me,

“Son, remember this truth of life:

A child's growth, like a flower,  needs

The nourishment of mother's tender love alone.

A young man's dreams, ambitious, and free,

Require the fuel of money's golden might.

And when life's autumn leaves begin to fall,

A person needs a hand that will not let go.

A companion's presence is the heart's last light at that time.

Unlucky, indeed, are those who miss these precious gifts, 

At life's appointed time.”

I believed him,

Until 1990 arrived.

Until my homeland was torn from my arms

And we were driven into the heat and dust of distant plains,

Where memories burned hotter than the sun,

And exile settled deep in our bones.

Then I learned what father never knew.

A child needs a homeland

Before he knows his mother’s name.

A man needs a homeland 

Before he learns the value of money.

And in old age,

When strength fades,

When faces blur,

When even companionship grows silent,

One needs nothing

But the soil that remembers his footsteps.

For homeland is the first lullaby,

The last prayer,

The breath between birth and death.

(Avtar Mota)

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