gentle strains as tall coconut trees swaying
outside the bamboo windows
I pin scented white flowers on my black hair
A reminder of my father, one whom I hardly knew
as he was killed when I was just 2 years old
My dead father's name is my amulet
I evoke it now as I steel my chest
for the vicious battles ahead, a long drawn out war
against military rulers who have sought to silence my voice
Am I not your true daughter, motherland?
I have willingly stayed behind bolted doors
I have paid penance for leaving my 2 young sons and
devoted husband, now dead, in England
I turned my back, to blister my knees
After hearing the lament of your sons & daughters
Amidst betel-nut stained streets
Their blood mingled with dark nights of terror
I offered to my own dying mother:
I will not leave
beyond the shores of Bay of Bengal
for my destiny is here
Am I not your true soldier, motherland?
Your General
A fighting peacock under the silk sarong
Your fearless lion charger
chanting to winds of change
Come, come
the rice fields are ready
the fishponds are open to rivers
Step by step, and a thousand more
By my iron fists & jade-stone heart,
I will stitch a truce in your land
abundant of birds flying beyond Andaman Sea
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Persona poem hosted by guest KB ~
I have chosen the formidable woman leader of Myanmar (formerly Burma), Aung San Suu Kyi, whose party won the elections recently and is now poised to handle and lead the country after more than 5 decades of military-run government. She is also 1991 Nobel Prize Winner who has been under house arrest for more than two decades and was separated from her British born husband and family.
You can read more her love story with her deceased husband here and her estangement for 25 years from her two sons here. I have always followed her journey in the past, and now I am happy to see her in the cusp of change.
