Tomorrow
I return to muddy walls near the river
Erratic November rain heals the world.
Now the courtyard is wet.
Night birds are carrying time’s wings
Though our hearts have deep bloody wounds
Though the air if full of hatred and self love
Erring weaves gather mud
Even then, the world is engrossed in dreams of a beautiful dawn.
My girl has a river in her
Her playmates are in distant lands
Making friends, new playmates
Life's wheel moves towards the confluence.
I count rain drops.
My heart is emptied to have more sadness
Separations, homelessness on the banks of the river.
River's heart knows tomorrows. Erring times.
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