EXILE
Early in my life,
Mother cursed me to be an exile—
motherless, fatherless,
kinless, and friendless.
Since then, I’ve drifted,
goalless and rootless,
laughing at Mother's naïveté.
The poor soul knew not
she too was an exile,
believing herself born with caste,
religion, nativity, color, and
language—
all mere accidents people are
blindly born into.
How funny it is:
exiles on Earth believe they’re
rooted,
while Earth itself spins in exile,
cast away, rootless, with abandon!
