The pain of birth has translated into
The loneliness of a single tear child roaming
The wilderness where his ancestral bones
Were interred, half-hidden by
Slender after-the-monsoon grass.
A serpent hissed and the child recoiled –
Became a wayward boy who would cross to
The other side.
Rain came again and drowned the ants.
The boy stooped down to watch the vortex of
And comprehended (dimly) what lay beyond
The hillside tombstones
(All those dead and forgotten in a foreign land).
After the storm left there was the usual
The reassurance that all should be as always.
Quiet joy lay at the core of this phase.
And a phase it certainly was.
Somewhere over the sea there were deep rumblings again.
Soon the towering rainclouds would blow inland
And the boy would scurry for cover.
30.5.16 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia