Everything Goes On Poem by Fatima Nusairat

Everything goes on, nothing remains,
the pain of nostalgia-
the upheaval rumbling since
the start of spring till end of autumn.

Dragging nostalgia in my bags:
from exile to another;
from house to hospital,
from homeland to a stone of homeland,
from my mother's voice, to my mother,
from my father, to my father's slap.

Dragging nostalgia in my bags:
longing to my mistakes, to my features,
to the dates which was wiped in vain
on our shores or on unknown seas
to trees on the road, to the road,
to a pile of ash, which is beside the road,
to to the land, to the grass,
to the forks among the grass,

Longing to thy face, to thy eyes,
to thy glance, to thy mouth,
to thy name, to thy roots,
to thy dawn, to thy heart,
to thy soul, to thy bone,
to my tears that withered
as candles shrivel,

Longing to 'Ice Cream',
to bitterness in olive, to olive beads,
to places I visited,
to places that haven't seen,
to moments that I missed,
or I'll miss, to this -
blind moment that trembling
as the last leaf on the tree.

Longing to landing,
to landings parachutes,
to walking barefoot,
to observe the sunrise,
to observe the sunset when goes on,
as my life, goes on now,
I am dying..