Prabhakar Subramaniam


Rootlessness


In the perpetual motion
Of the long journey
The known took on unknown hues
The distance gave them a new light
The familiar turned strange
The strange looked familiar
Eyes picked patterns
In the parade of the still
The home drew nearer
The farther we went
Seemed not a place
That stayed back
The trees were trees
We had seen and not seen
Reaching for the skyline
Though pretending to be rooted
Flying away with the birds
Borne by the wind
Travelling in their own ways
Farther and farther away
Knowing rootedness could be death
Perhaps, like us wanting to be
Rootless and rooted, both at once
Wanting the rootlessness
Of the feet leaving town
Wanting as much the feet turning back

Submitted: Monday, February 10, 2014
Edited: Thursday, February 13, 2014

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