There are people to send out postcards to. I keep forgetting.
Postcard from Kashmir
Agha Shahid Ali
Kashmir shrinks into my mailbox,
my home a neat four by six inches.
I always loved neatness. Now I hold
the half-inch Himalayas in my hand.
This is home. And this the closest
I’ll ever be to home. When I return,
the colors won’t be so brilliant,
the Jhelum’s waters so clean,
so ultramarine. My love
And my memory will be a little
out of focus, it in
a giant negative, black
and white, still undeveloped.
I miss the days when people still write to one another.