"Uprooted"

 "Uprooted"

I was torn from my roots, so deep and so wide,
Like an old mulberry upended by time’s cruel tide.
The land of my fathers, of love and pain,
Now lives in my blood, yet I’m severed in vain.

The stones bore the weight of my ancestors’ hands,
Their sweat built these walls that no longer stand.
Each brick held a story, each step had a prayer,
Now dust on the wind—gone, as if never there.

The hearth where we gathered, where embers would glow,
Now whispers are ashes, the breezes will blow.
The laughter, the weeping, the songs left unsung,
Are ghosts in the echoes of a tongue now unstrung?

I walk with the shadows of all left behind,
A relic of ruins no stranger would find.
What’s lost can’t return, yet it clings to my soul—
A home now just memory, half-mended, half-whole.

So, I bear the weight of a name without ground,
A seed without soil, yet still longing for sound.
For though I was taken, though all seems erased,
The land lives within me—unbroken, though displaced.

"The wind whispered secrets the trees dared not keep,
Their silence too heavy, their roots dug too deep.
I reached for the echoes—so faint, yet so true—
But the past, like a storm, tore the world that I knew."

Sham Misri

(Sundra)