Here is an exchange of poems between a friend of mine (who chooses to remain anonymous) and I:

Borders

I swam the river, crossed the plateau
climbed the ridge, scaled the pass

to your strange land where
clothes are brown, cities purple.

I walked to a home yet unseen,
seeking directions in gesture and nod,

Arrived to smiles, tears and babble,
strange foods and exotic drink,

Shook hands, bowed, kissed, made love,
embraced, wept. And all over again.

~

A chapter ends and I retrace
faded footprints, under freshly barbed wires,

Passing yellow signs with unblinking words,
skirting fences that bite, trenches that trap.

Who are these men, that walk
not along the road, but across it

And tell me I do not belong
in the land of my birth,

Why don't they hear when I sing
the song of the valley beyond?

-----

- Anonymous

The Song of the Valley Beyond

It is not my place amongst these men,
from lands beyond the horizon,
Who fell my trees and barb my lands,
Replace green signs of spring, with yellow.
Why do they spew hate, like little volcanoes?
As we walk, not along the road, but across it.
Will they ever understand,
My song of the valley beyond?

Who is that one, who crosses the fence?
She looks at me, in silence,
Not even the wind whispers,
The oaks no longer stand to speak their language.
"You shall not pass" my throat says,
Harsh words of the plains.
Can she hear my heart cry
The song of a valley beyond?

Her tears speak a common language.
She turns back, and walks.
Every step, and the dagger pierces
A little deeper.
Does she not know
it's not me?
That I too sing,
Her song of the valley beyond?

- Kedar

If there was one poem or piece of prose that has change my life, it has to be this one. This is a poem written by one of my teachers in school. There is something about this poem that is magical, and I've refused to share it with anyone till today!

The poem was written for the 'farewell' that our school organised for the batch of tenth graders who were leaving. Although this poem was written for the batch senior to us, I think the poem is for anyone, who is refusing to let go of the innocence called childhood...

"We have lived here and learnt,
And we have dreamt,
and because we have been young,
We have dreamt of fantastic possibilities
and of impossible things;
and it is in our innocence that
we have believed in them

Now, it's almost time to grow up.
and even as we grow, we will learn;
and as we learn, they might tell us
that what we had thought was wrong
Then we have to decide...
Whether we wish to grow out of our childhood
or we wish to grow up to it

Let us never learn so much,
that we unlearn the joys of wonderment and dreams,
Let us never be so afraid to do what we think is right
and let us always be willing to put all our earnings
for a handful of stardust.

Because we were born as children of God,
and it is to this that we need to grow up to
Let us never forget what we knew so well when we were young
And someday, let us all grow up,
to find once again,
the child in us."

- Siddhartha Kanungo