Tears Of An Nri Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

I am a native of Holy Land
But cast out now from my holy dust;
Separated from my parents, aged;
And from my sister, I love just.

With my shipment sordid,
I set sailing, but sinking spirit;
Like a mariner, robbed by bandits,
But steered my voyage but no light.

Back home brother moans for kidney pain,
Dear sister shedding tears of blood,
But love for dreams fake, paramount but vain:
And talking marching only symbol of bonds.

New Haven was my destination—
But there was I like withered roses;
The distance drew near minus fascination,
Glimpses of brooks and a image of mosses.

I was like a prisoner at Port New Haven,
Here, started working as if in chains,
Even all the beauties were like damned passion,
For excessive tyranny each day prevails.