Exile Poem by Ananta Madhavan

Fill in this form, they said.
He knew his age and name.
The address was no trouble
To fabricate at random.

Thus he became a person;
But then his mind went blank
At 'Nationality'.
The land he came from was
A shape upon a map,
A shape that fused with half-
Remembered faces; none
Which he could recognise,
For they grew suddenly hard
And jabbed their wrath at him,
Who had forgotten his
Own treachery of love.
But he was not forgiven.

- - - - - written in the 1970's.