My Homeland

I long for the land from which I came

Where a simple man without any distinction

Can roll freely down the subtle declivities of his mind

And walk unburdened by unwieldy, hypertrophied dreams

Where crops harvested on a farmer’s field speak enough science

To measure the meaning of the earth and wing birds over mountains

Where endless horizons permit you to live free from imposed liberations

And facts are not organized into gangs that hunt down and disfigure the truth

A place where it never seems to anyone that he is just another ticking embolus

Drifting through the infinitely bifurcating arteries of an atherosclerotic society

Where months are not torn from our lives like tattered flesh from cracked ribs

In the glistening air-conditioned purgatories business schools have designed

Where I can gaze over the old familiar lines of the places where I belong

And no one cares if the picture on the wall hangs a little crooked

Where people’s minds are like trees that never stop growing

And the soil is rank and fertile with honest words

In quiet rustling forests of flaming souls

Who believe in impossible things