She is an oracle for the people in between,
the ones who have no countries or people,
who have been betrayed by everything they know.
She speaks your mother tongue,
the one you never knew you had,
the one they tried to take from you.
You'll understand her anyway
She has no passport.
She needs none -
You'll see her in New York, in London, in Toronto, all the same
She looks like your aunt, your cousin,
the beloved friend of your childhood
left behind in a burning house.
She'll tell you to tell the stories you never knew you had,
the ones who've been waiting for only you to tell them.
She wears a thalikodi around her neck,
red pottu on her forehead.
I have never been married, she says, except to you.
En uluhuringal, enda pillai?
Because she'll tell you about everything you had
and never knew you were missing.