MY TRIBE
- K. Satchidanandan (India)
The Aztecs of Mexico believe
that
Butterflies are the souls of
the dead:
From the youth killed in
battles to
The mothers dead in labour.
My tribe believes that the
borders of nations
Have been painted with the
blood of
The martyrs of border-wars and
The tears of their mothers.
And that God has
No caste nor religion, no
gender nor race.
Our nation’s border is the
sky. It has
Neither rulers nor subjects.
Everyone knows
Every language. Woodpeckers
speak Spanish
As proficiently as the crows
speak Malayalam.
Here anyone can love anyone else,
consensually:
Grass can love the worm, the
sparrow, moonlight,
Angels can love humans, and
memories, dreams.
All doors here lie wide open,
for cats,
Humans and comets. There is no
divide
Between past and present or
future. Grammar
Does not stand guard to them.
The rite is simple when one of
us dies:
We go on sheddingleaves until
another is
Born in the tribe. And then
spring will come
Without even ringing the
doorbell.
We are the most ancient tribe
on earth,
And the smallest. Our sign is
a letter
Carved on a parrot’s wing. We
believe
That we will be there as long
as there are
Parrots and alphabets on the
planet. We
Will be there wherever five
people laugh
Together, as one among them,
And
Where one person weeps alone.
****