My winter in Sunninghill
Made of white meadows
Covered by threads of crystals
Breaking in multi-color prisms
At the touch of the early Sun.
My winter in Sunninghill
First time ever commemorating Mother’s Day
Yet still away from my loved ones
Still away from my children.
My winter in Sunninghill
Made joyful by the sounds
Of the rivers nearby
And sad by an unlawful development.
My winter in Sunninghill
Trying to come to terms with the forced good-bye
To a city that is collapsing
Right under our feet.
A city of gold and dreams
Of parks and freeways
Surrendering to lawlessness
Broken windows and lives of uncertainty.
July 2008.
