TANKA ON MY RETURN HOME

Three long months have made

strangers of us, long separated

by an unforgiving sea, when I land

will you hold me with aged hands ?

The subtle rumble

of a flying metal box

distorts passing time—

listen as distance dilutes,

Chicago comes into sight.

iii

Sky has her own song

she sings of what she has gained—

listen as the loud sun weeps

of lost in Latin,

the chasm between them grows.

Under skyscrapers

nobody is a stranger

these modern castles

revert sublime nothingness

all are welcomed as their own.

How deep did I long

for the warmth of my birthplace?

If it was summer

time would reverse as I aged

I would leave the plane a kid.

Should I be weeping

for the return to my native

land? They would be sweet

tears that will have mourned me,

the interloper between worlds.

vii

There, waiting for me

will be my big eyed beloved

she will probably weep

tears of sadness and of joy

who knows if I will leave again?

The Nappy Tales