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Wandering body, intransigent heart

January 28, 2008

On Sunday, July 29, I wrote an entry called “Wanderlust.”  It was
both a physical and metaphysical description of one of Leandro’s Indian
neighbors in Philly, who took to walking up and down the concrete path
connecting the row houses on Tabor Road.  I wondered where the
traditionally dressed man really was as he drifted from house to house,
not seeming to be entirely present in Philadelphia.  Perhaps I
have my answer in the following poem, written by an Indian
poet/songwriter:
 

Still Over There

by Maitrayee Patel

When I left my motherland

I packed a lot of luggage

my clothes,

my perfumes,

my favorite masala packs

and tiny-tiny, knick-knacks…

my each book,

my each song,

and everything that I could take along.

On my arrival to this country

I checked all of it;

if it reached safe and intact.

Yes, everything was fine

except for one thing

that had refused to part

And that was my little heart.

No matter how much

this country can allure

My heart is still over there

I know for sure.

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