THE LAND OF OUTCASTS

 I ran with the mad winds

To a place far from home

For it promised to take me to a place

Filled with song.

I ran until I reached

A barren land

Where nothing grew

And as the wind stopped

I lay to die

Under the rubble

Of all the forsaken homes.

But I passed not on

Green grasses grew underneath me

To make a coffer of life

All the flowers that were shunned by the light

Bent over me to chase away

The smell of decay.

The dry river bed

Now full of water

Roared to conquer the earth

That had forgotten its touch.

It carried the day that had passed

Along with its currents

And today smiled

As it drowned in its depths.

As the winds stopped blowing

I heard

A song coming from far away

And so I rose

And tarried till dawn melted to dusk

And only then did I dare

To look again

At the distance where my home lay

The song had never stopped.

Yet why did I search and search for it?

I searched not in my own garden.

I searched not in my abandoned shed.

I searched not in the dried weeds that envied the flowers.

As I tire I lay to sleep

Under the trees

I shall return not 

But I shall carve a home

In this Land of Outcasts.

I shall string the beads of legends

With the fruits that lay to dry under the old walnut tree

I shall sing to the distant mountains

Until they echo 

The song of my homeland.