Bike for Tibet
Poem: The State of Tsampa
For my newborn nephew, may all of us be able to return to the homeland so we can end the trauma caused by own displaced settler-colonialism.
Before you even developed a taste for air
When making crowns of flowers and grasses
Was not seen as a waste of time
There was Barley
Wind blowing, strengthening roots
Your palate searches for butter
For salt and that familiar
The bitterness of black tea
Wrinkled hands with clear blueprints
On creating the perfect nugget of nutrients
When flour meets grease
I can almost hear you saying it
May your feet grow roots
As deep as it takes
To get you to the state of Tsampa
The only State your auntie could ever support
*Roasted barley flour, a Tibetan staple food.
Tibetan in exile writing from the road.