Saturday, November 07, 2009

Veronica Pamoukaghlian: INDIAN KINGS

I'd seen them
in the galleys
under the dust
and bleach

cleaners, servants
lesser men
who made my bed
and made me feel ashamed

I saw them dance
on INDIAN night
after a fourteen hour day
under the rugs

I saw them frown and sweat
on elevators
and fear me
because I had more stripes
upon my vest

And just today
a picture
an Indian honeymoon

I recognized the faces
but they´d no uniforms

Princes, Kings
and colourful
jewels, women
the happiness
of being yourself

Kings they had been

KINGS with their turbans
their tunics, silk and threads of gold

with the same faces
of the galley boys
and their dead souls

I never thought
those small dark men
who learnt Yes sir, before they learnt their name
and scrub and dust
and dance like girls
on Indian day

Could have been KINGS
one day in INDIA
not long ago

And of me too,
a Wanderer
I thought perhaps
I´m nothing now
in Spain
or in America

and once perchance
I´ve been
a King
in Uruguay

and I forgot

the regal music
the regal dance
my soul
the thing I am

Copyright, Veronica Pamoukaghlian.
All rights reserved by author.

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