Take Me Home, Ricksaw Poem by Asaduzzaman Collis

Take me home, rickshaw,
You know my address. You should.
Everyone should know it by heart.
I am Humayun Azad, a poet.
Don't you know that only poets
Have permanent address?
All others are homeless refugees
Drifting on this earth, in this water, air and fire.
To a poet each house is a home.
No one else can build his happy abode
Out in the open green meadows
With such ease and tender skill.

Go rickshaw
blue rickshaw
yellow rickshaw
strange rickshaw
let us go.
Drop me by a lane, dropp me on the avenue
In front of my house, no house
You'll see me walk in proudly smiling.

Drop me in front of a crumbling veranda in a slum
On the corner of rows of respectable residences
Drop me where the brothels abound
You all watch me enter my own temple.

Drop me in the midst of a curfew
Drop me inside a well kept garden
Or in the middle of a desert
Rickshaw, you can take me right across this city
Its lights, cinemas, shops, cafes, airports and stop
In front of a nameless tree
And say, 'Here is your home,
Here is where you get off.'
You'll see the tree opening its door.
Through the leafy green curtain in its windows
You may even have a glimpse of my permanent bed.

So, let us go rickshaw, take me home.
Remember, only poets have permanent address.