JAPA NO MORE

To the running soul,

In tossed feet,

Tossed in the blinds of unhealthy linens.

To the milked son,

Yearning for the baby’s remains,

A taste of which, home only feeds

With greener race, in another’s pasture,

Embracing your earthly rights,

To the hands of which, your fate ought to hide.

In your merry haven,

You plead for bread,

In a land not yours,

For the land is aware,

Of tales of your cowardice path,

All for a flight to ride away from your home,

Your new land pays no dues to you,

For your debt lies at home.

At the troubling peace in your new haven,

Your tossed land will toss your heart,

Back to the home of your birth,

No photos shall speak abroad.

Visit is the cure for taste,

The home remains the unending meal,

Feed in it and cook it in joy,

And japa no more to the land not yours.