Waves Weaving The Winds Poem by Uma Pochampalli Goparaju

In the wind every time I see, I find
The dust particles that shine in the Sun's rays
Fallen leaves dried out and rolling on the dirt
Twigs that fell off as the wind rustled

I see small twigs sprouting and dancing to the waves of wind
I see little plants breathing through their small leaves
And growing to be huge trees that shelter the young birds
I see homes standing and sometimes falling, all through my life

I see birds flying and crying and cooing and wooing
I see pyramids, palaces, pillars and gates, all standing tall
Along with farms and gardens and huts and streets
Places of worship, and unworthy, everywhere people dwell

I see little children with nothing on, play and cry for a morsel of food
I see young women escorted and deceived or raped and left to die
I see people starting lives, ending if it nears, yet to see some good
that leads hope; death is just a door for one to enter another life