Because I crossed over no man’s land one day, a few steps of   nothingness between two countries that drew borders   to fence us in. A sliver of territory just enough for a   road to run through, a few kiosks that might make it   livable but not sufficient for homes to make you feel loved   put down roots. No one feels at home in no man’s land. No one stops   there. Not for long. Only lonely birds swooping down infrequently to rest awhile, taking   wing as they sense all is not quite right. Or the occasional curious   cow that wonders if the grass is really greener yet doesn’t venture   further. A feeling of unease she can’t quite understand; fear of death by slaughter slow   and painful, cold breeze carrying messages of anguish and terror   waiting on the other side. Because sometimes words are not required   to make one understand or experience joy and grief at the same time.   Because of this you left, unable to comprehend, refused to accompany  
  1. Stood for an hour at the threshold until
the gates closed behind me. You gazed as I went   over to the other country. Past the entrance, the men in uniform,   the plumed hats, the paperwork,   the stamp of finality and get lost in the rest of what makes   it theirs. Not yours anymore. Because it happened so long ago   you don’t remember the words spoken as you watched people stride away.   Like me. But I remembered your face that day and the words   you wanted to speak but couldn’t so you let your eyes converse instead.   Because it sounded so good like a violin crying in   an abandoned house, like a dog howling in the lonely ruins,   like a peacock singing in a desert dream and I remembered.