A Burmese Gale
Sometimes strolling slowly on a neglected trail
Upon a chilling coast uniting land and sea
A gale weakly brushes my face
I pause, standing still as she talks to me.
Her tongue speaks with foreign eloquence
Words and customs unknown to me
I can only catch the sorrow in her voice
Language that transcends every boundary
She laments as if she lost a son
Snatched cruelly from her loving arms
He would hold so trustingly, her hands
Today, she came with empty palms.
Today she came but wasn’t here
As if to years of oppression, finally succumbed
Like she’d lost a husband, newlywed
The monks in their temples afterwards hummed.
Today she came and blew deliriously
Changing direction without purpose
Was she perhaps still a young child?
Still pulling at her father’s carcass.
The force of her breeze was so weak
Not even fazing lowly blades of grass
Had she not eaten for many days?
Or had her honour been defiled in the past?
But then she turned violently,
Screaming for revenge in rushing anger
I could only barely stand my ground
And only make out one word…’Rohingya’
I looked across the wide expanse
Water running on forever
Somewhere, something terrible was happening
To the Rohingya people of Burma