Saturday, November 12, 2005


(What the head says)

I am the daughter of the Khatulistiwa
A stranger to you
Son of His Mountains
A stranger who has never seen snow

Let alone touch it with the skin of my brown hands
Let alone taste it with the tip of my Asian tongue
Let alone choose to want it as my own

And why should I?
When there's warm Monsoon rain to shower with
and salty sea water to frolic with
And stinging summer sun to dry up with?

Whereas your soul reaches to eagle-scattered sky
Mine bends down and caresses
the Mother beneath my feet?

(What the heart says)

The snow may melt, my Love,
and turn into water of my own rivers,
and they will teach us how to cry,
and show us the time,

When you knew me,
Long before I decided to be born,
And when I knew you,
Long before you showed me snow.