The Pyle Inside

I come from rainbow-splashed saris

From chadors and hair covered up.

From seas of emerald tea leaves

Rippling in perpetual waves, but

Also grapes in grassy greens and rich purples

Tumbling into the mouths of hungry children.

I come from rice and curry, blended spices

The flavors that taste like home.

But I also know crispy tadig, hands

Scrambling for the mouth watering rice

Scraped from the bottom of the pot.

I am comforted by the sight of sparkling sapphire seas

And mystical majestic mountains.

I come from Christmas mornings,

From midnight mass in the Colombo church.

But also early morning praying

And visits to the mosque in the town of Shahrud.

Or easter baskets filled to the brim

Or the seven C’s laid on the Nowruz table.

I come from two ancient stone cities

One’s power from its young freedom

The other’s power from its long-lasting religion.

I come from two cultures

From two worlds

From two religions

But one life.