If one is called Sami, in Islam
You’re an elevated one of sublimity
And if you’re Sammy, you’re a shorter version
Of Samuel, the biblical giant with long tresses
Who surrendered it all to Delilah
A woman with a pair of scissors in her hand.
And if you’re plain old Sam
You’re a son of that uncle who looms
Large and mighty, and makes
A little green card a sought-after ticket
To be airfreighted or smuggled across.
And Sam here is Sampath, like my uncle
Who makes an honest living from Agriculture
Or the saxophonist at Grand Oriental Hotel
Who’s nicknamed “Sam the Man”
Sampath means a treasure or a resource
And in that one word, there is a bonanza of life
Sam to me is love, the most precious
Element on earth that stays unsymbolized
Except for a perfectly symmetrical yam leaf
And we look at a leaf of Ipomoea batatas
Calling it a heart. And it’s a sweet potato
Which tells us, love too is sweet and yellow
Like the journeying sun from the east to the west
And love has everything Sam in it.
– Elevation, fortune and a united state –
And that heart-shaped yam leaf reminds you
That what matters is not what’s out in the open
Just the sweetness below.