THE STOMACH SUFFERS FROM LACK
The stomach suffers immensely
It suffers from lack. The spine bent and hobbled with hurt,
the spine that held up the stairs
and resisted the shifting walls, the spine
carries us forward, stiffened, but not broken
The hands, palms dark and swollen,
knuckles split, fretted with blood
broke our fall and drag us still from the rubble
The soles of the feet with so many years
ground into it. And the heels
that steady us, ridged like the bark of a tree,
Soles and heels, with the legs tireless
and drained, that sprang us free, rock us now
here where we crouch. Head in our hands,
lips broken like the earth beneath the stream
that long ago fled, and the teeth,
so few, gapped like houses that stood along the ridge,
jailors, holding back the cry
that overtakes us: the heart suffers from loss,
it suffers severely. The tongue, furtive,
caked with the stench of its own saliva, wanting
to… wanting to speak, and the eyes,
those darlings of life, weary from never closing,
the eyes link and sustain us
as we look to each other, and without turning
away, as we look within, lifting us,
lifting us…
June 5, 2015
THEY TIE US DOWN
With jaws and elbows, with signatures
and pens. With topis and rupees,
with hard hats and bricks, in helicopters,
in stealth motorcades With tea
and consultationWith decrees and commissions
With fingers in your pockets and holes
in their socks. With poses, postures
and schemes. With a wink and a whisper
With heads shaking, back pedaling,
to distract and obfuscate, disproving Darwin,
shaming Marx, —to make us laugh?
to keep us from weeping? Imposters all!
Nowhere to be seen when everyone’s looking
With stamps and signatures they tie us down,
with hints and innuendoes they spur us on,
with slurs and threats they enlist us,
with sly grins they quack-quack quack
Cold that is our warmth, path that breaks
against us, sky, forlorn and vast,
river, unrelenting, village, our source
and sustenance: Why did the Earth spew us forth?
Into these cement canyons thick with fumes,
swarming with demons.
At night they lock our souls away
All day they lead us astray
June 5, 2015
LAMENT
If history were ours, we would tell it
If we had rice, we could
gather the grains from the rubble
Cracked lips, cracked earth,
our fate is clear. We can still raise our hands
in Namaste! One hand at a time,
for we are weary Rebuild? Yes, return us
to our miserable yesterdays
Bring back the dead while you’re at it!
Monsoon rain, winter cold,
it’s not the roar of earth and mountain,
it’s their foot dragging power,
that will bury us, it’s their stunning indifference
that has left us stranded
in the man-made wilderness of caste
and party rule
May 18, 2015
LOOMING OVERHEAD
When I sense this all around dare to do,
I ask are the men-in-charge from the same country?
They’re the headlines, not the story
See how the young paint through to the sky
Their sunburst colors erase these buildings
looming overhead. Hands into the earth to plant rice;
neck, shoulders and spine bent to port bricks;
bodies crouched and on the move, lives with a purpose:
to feed and to house. Houses and cars for V.I.P.s
Men on the stage above it all
Garlanded words out of sync with the season
What can be had! What can be taken?
Rough palms, smooth palms, hands wet with paint
Year after year, the same front page
men hold back, to hold onto
Never new Nepal
June 25, 2015
