She is not Aching

Shadow Poem to “She Leaves Like”

She is not Aching

For home where snow does not fall and wind is not cruel,

Where branches of pink petals rain like jewels

And too many feet busy the stone streets searching

For pretty things, pretty people for whom she is not aching.

 

Here she is, standing still, her boat docking and rocking itself.

That small golden lantern dims like it is lost

As she plants weary feet on sinking black sand.

 

She is not aching for the warmth of seeping guava tea,

A mother that knew her at the first sight of unhappy,

Pink petals that fell on brown roofs, now burnt to black

Like the sand and silhouettes of mountains and temples

That encase her now, edges to the ink she lacks.

 

She may never fear temple-sized serpents

As much as she fears humans

who make shapes where they do not belong.

If they had left her and her people alone,

Then she would not be leaving and aching so alone.

 

It is not her human condition to chase an offender this far from home.