Removed from fear,
Away from the cunning,
Unpursued – the Falcon feels
A King on his home-terrain.
Here, he is nature’s special child.

Slaying the fiercest winds,
The sound of the amethyst sands
Softly picks up his regal wings,
And to his ethereal abode:
The old hand always flies.

Maddest in joy with the bounty
Of countless banquets —
The Sovereign’s Bird seems ungrasped —
By his ancestors’ remembering nightmares,
When they were the prey.

However the night attacks —
The chill upon the heat
Never gets to hear his sound of sleeping.
Ever-alert from everywhere —
His twinkled eye commands hold
Of the most puzzling skies!

Ajman
1996

Geeta Chhabra

From the book: An Indian Ode To The Emirates