Poetry: Eternal Sadness

This country

Still warm with the blood of common people

Spilled during the People’s War

Stands on the corpses

Of murdered kings and prime ministers

People, old and young

These and those

Wait for the emancipation

With eternal sadness in their eyes

And make stories, within grim fogs

That there is no hope for the country

Once cursed by a virtuous woman

This country

Survived wars and political scheming

Throughout the written history of 1500 years

But is haunted by the 16th century legend

That a woman, whose courtier husband was murdered

Had cursed that there is no hope for Nepal

The Buddha is mum

He who preached about ahimsha and non-violence

Witnessed deaths and killings

Of men and women, children and teens

During the decade of Nepalese Civil War

The rivers swell and wash away settlements

Mountains and hills fall and bury villages

Poverty stricken people

Look at the Gods and Goddess expectantly

Do they know, the deities just the wood, stone and metal?

The rocks at the Trishuli River

Shore cave into the shore

And devours the rafters

Who belong to the another world

Mountaineers are lost

Within the intricacies of the Everest and Annapurna

In the wildlife reserves and national parks

Rhinos and tigers move little farther

Poor elephants

They will have to carry the white man’s burden again

The country is throttled

By the flood, by undesired happenings

By the landslides, by political wrangling 

By earthquakes, by schemes and designs

However, the evening settles peacefully

The day begins peacefully.

I, a piece of Nepal’s children

Come out to play with life

Walk across rubbles, alongside corpses

And avoid broken statues of Buddhist and Hindu deities

The fang of loneliness

Penetrates deep

The eternal sadness everywhere.

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