In memorial of Balbir Singh Sodhi, murdered on September 15, 2001.
The victim of the first hate crime to result in death after the World Trade Center attacks.



my father lives
in new york’s buildings
which scrape the sky
and
my father lives
in afghanistan’s mountains
which kiss the moon
and
my father lives
in mesa, arizona desert plain
which swallows the first sand
storm/ bullet
yes
my father
Balbir Singh Sodhi
yes
my father offers
himself to strangers’ babies
he clinks/ clangs
with each coin tossed
into every collection
plate of prayers
to heal
a sister’s/ a brother’s/ another’s
wounds
and
my father wraps
his love
for every self/ every family/ every faith
in each turban cloth pleat
laid soft onto forehead
across nape
set back to forehead
with patterned care
like a thousand rows
of careful lined
sugar cane field
and
my father plants
every continent’s flag
every nation’s flag
every people’s flag
on his accent tongue
he waves the banner
of humanity breaking borders
with every
stumble/ of speech
contradiction/ of grammar
hesitation/ of language
and
my father stretches/ lifts/ rises
from the fiber
of every muscle
of every man
who pumps gas or drives a taxi
just so wheat and rice can melt
in his child’s stomach
and
my father lives/ my father lives/ my father lives
in new york / afghanistan/ mesa, arizona
in
the guilty
innocent
terrorist
civilian
in
the leader
follower
persecutor
persecuted
in
the thunder
lightning
war
peace
and
in my heartbeat
your heartbeat
our heartbeat
and
my father lives
in my love
your love
our love
yes
my father
Balbir Singh Sodhi
yes
my father
lives
Hello,
My name is Roy Parfitt…
I have a newspaper clipping of Rose Kaur Sodhi from January of 2012 that I have kept trying to figure out a way of making contact with her or her family. Balboa Singh Sodhi’s death moved me to write a poem about immigrating to America right after he was killed. I would like you to have it.
Roy Parfitt
[email protected]
or
253.906.3047. – cell