Brown Skinned Poem by RIC BASTASA

i always find time going back to the place which you do not like.
it is a pond
it dried up long time ago.
those who happen to pass there do not dare looking back.
what you love is not what i love.
we respect this. i try to explain you say there is no need.
i can go my way. FIND THE Pond
who knows there's water soon. and my thirst shall be quenched.
you are sure. it was never a pond.
there was never water. it may rain but it is not a pond.
and there is no water.
i always find time going back there. i am not looking for water.

i am looking for myself and there is someone there who fetches
water for me. brown skinned. sunken eyes. black hair. mute.

and he tells me who i am.