Regeneration

The earth trembles every day, every night
wooden doors live with pain and hatred

moon shines like the presence of holy angels
you want to converse in the language of hunger

brass lamps hang inside a thatched shelter
west wind ignores the weather-beaten faces

time waits for long to turn into red hibiscus
the oleander teaches you the craft of losing

someone sings the lullaby of regeneration
hues of blood rest on your wide shoulders

of all lights the colour of dusk is the sweetest
the splash of words touches a few footprints

If time goes by you keep closing the lily pad
on the banks of ancient rivers and streams