Sunday, October 2, 2011

A poem by Deborah Kayuwa

The sands of Rourakata

Hand in hand we walk
The sands of Rourakata
Regarding footprints
Of a thousand lovers
Before us, eyes locked
Smiles sealing the bond
Of our friendship

A slight breeze
Turns you into burnt paper
I grip your hand firmly
But you are ashes in the wind

I search the moonlit sands
Shining ever so bright and white
For a touch, for a presence
But there is something so black
And magical about this whiteness
This pureness of spirit and serenity
I awaken crying, my face
Buried in my palms

Ah, lover, would Rourakata
Be ever kinder, would a sigh
Suffice as orison just to undo
The spell and bring you
Back to me?