Things Lost Along the Way
Tonight,
The milk bowl moon comes back.
Sitting alongside, on a shadowy bough,
The old white owl hoots
With its inimitable yoghurt voice.
And I hear the familiar eastern winds
Blowing in on blind chariots
In unbalanced haste,
To answer me about things
I've lost along the way.
- is the road to my school still there?
- yes, it still goes there but in a wheelchair.
- what about the river in front of my home?
- it's lost it's mind and sheds tears of mud.
- the girls in yellow sarongs?
- they wear white now.
- mother?
- she still sits by the gate with her oil lamp.
And I lost my earthbound being, once again.
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