(For my sister, 2007)
In a few weeks
you will
cross several oceans
and two continents
in search of new beginnings
and fulfillment of old needs
my mind hovers around
the days we sailed paper boats
on rivers made by
monsoon rain on a coconut estate
streams afloat
with pol mal and tamarind shells
and halts near the talk
of leaving
the concept of home
and crossing oceans.
With you I have confronted
the intricate twists of
growing up
negotiated the algorithms
of loving and losing
divided grief
into manageable chunks
With you I have constructed a history.
So geography shall remain
only a syllable
as you leave,
a small twig in the river
that flows inexorably
to the sea
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