I sit at the end of the yard
I see the true end of the string
Long, winding it goes
Leading my thoughts through the needle
Sewing a spectacle called my life
In a home meant to be mine forever
Yet taken from me by time.
I see the trees green and solid
Painted in the space that shows
We lived, loved and laughed there
For we knew not that we were
The thread that was held
In the hands of the sewer turned time
We walked into the mud puddles
After the rains bare footed
And felt the cold earth underneath.
We heard the sounds after the rain
Saw the sun creep into the valley
Like it was afraid of the rainbow
It stood high against the mountains
Another day we would live to think of
The day we wish to return to
It is gone and only the mind
Can take us there to see you
Beautiful country of mine.
Who said we would walk in exile?
Who said we weren't in exile
Our land bleeding with death
People shrouded by power
Which filled the streets
And walked to the villages
And spoke and poked the nerves?
Yes I miss you land of mine
I wish to see you and hug you
Because of the truth of love
For it never lies to me
You are beautiful to look at
You leave my mind full of this
The love of you I can touch
Even when I am miles away from you.
The world continues to unfold
Like the years I spent there
The yard unfolds in front of me
I sit and look on daily
Walk into the future step by step
As if I am walking right where I came from
For you who is exiled will know
We want to touch tomorrow in yesterday
And claim it for ourselves as well
In lands far away from our own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem