"Indian Jasmine" is a poem published at Peace Chronicle, Spring 2023.
We return to the same place where we lost something.
We think we lost a person.
We keep going to the same place with the hope to find them once more.
To have a look on their eyes
To touch their skin
To smell their sweat.
We keep going to the same places with the hope to find the love we once lost
The place is the same
There is an Indian jasmine flower lying on the floor
I used to wear the crown of these little flowers on my head
The white circle of little flowers protecting my long brown hair
We go back to the places we once left
We search for the face
For the love that we once had
We go back to the places we once left even when they turn to be just a graveyard
It is time for the little white jasmine to die in peace.
The places we once left,
the faces we once had,
the love we once tasted
Fades away
The trace of our feet to the graveyard won’t turn to make dead alive
The tears we shed over the tombs won’t be heard from the other side
the nights we spend awakened waiting for the sun to rise so we will find our way home
the places we once had are not there anymore.
I stand in front of your grave
I can still see you
But couldn't find the face
I could still feel you
But couldn’t reach for your hand
I could still smell your skin
But don’t know what to do with all these little jasmine flowers that are hidden in my heart.
