Exile Footprints

You would return, I knew that,
But I never thought it would take this long
thirty years…
two hundred sixty thousand hours
ticking on the clock.

In the span of this time,
The world has reshaped itself,
as have my hues, my body,
a strange shadow of sorrow surrounding me.

You, whom I tied to every hour,
threaded into the weave of time.

Even the roots of the areca palm
would bear witness now,
as would the pond’s clear waters
The twisted path beneath your feet,
The path where you
And I left footprints of our shared exile.