I apologize for the sporadic posting lately. I am working on a couple of posts at the moment, all related to the neuroscience of dehumanization and empathy. I am also drafting one post in my mind about the identity sensations of returning to New York after a summer back ‘home’ in Europe.
Meanwhile, I have found one poem that I wrote this summer for an old friend, who, though having lived in England for most of his life, resides culturally in his mind in those parts of the world where osmanthus trees are blooming right now…
If only one had a whole other life to sit down and write those endless letters that keep rushing through one’s brain when one returns to one place, just to leave it for the next.
Reunion At Cambridge
The wanderer does not care to return
Yet I have come back
At spring’s last bud’s fall
To meet you in the place where
no cypresses stand, no osmanthuses blossom
no cicadas chirp.
Silence between us tells more than sound
Memory of past talk soars
in my mind
like the rising beats
of Muyu drums –
A flock of fenland birds
releases into the sky, clearing our heads at once.
I leave yet again
before summer’s crisp heat sinks
down on the bridges.
Lines and lines of letters to you
rush through my ear like an endless stream.