Land is what you sight from a storm-broken ship,
the mirage they forgot to sink: you hold it
in your eyes, mouth clenched
around a flask
is where your ancestors
made landfall, measured off a site
between the mountains and the wash of the sea,
marked its boundaries with the king’s horse-head seal.
Land is what you look for, all your life.
Zameen is what you hope to find.
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