I’m still alive…

R.N.Pokharel
California, USA

A bagful of bliss ‘They’ bagged
While I was in my fifteen.
Let God knows;
What taught them so-
What encouraged them so-
I know,
‘They’ were enjoying
My childish heart wailing.
Reminiscences still alive;
My pa looked toward his hard earned land,
Hard earned orange trees his hand hath planted.
My ma cautiously with a wish
-left the door open and wept,
And we set steps…to unknown destination.
My childish eyes witnessed
My childish brain recorded the episodes.
Guns were guiding our tracks,
Deny ain’t an option
Willy-nilly, we’re exiled.
A pinch of worry ‘They’ smelt
On hearing me living-
On knowing me growing-
Patriotism on me blooming.
For them:
we were to finish and rot
Decay and nev’ return.
Ramshackle bamboo huts
Survived me, sheltered me.
Against me and the like
Back in my hamlet…
Oil lamps lighted-
Prayers chanted-
Evasive ploy netted.
History it ran…
took its turn
A bag of bliss ‘They’ say bagged again
While i was thirty five.
Let God whispers them;
Might ‘They’ feel-
Oil lamps worked,
Prayers heard,
Evasive ploy well proven.
I left the bamboo hut
And the like- thousands too,
Yet, not rotten.
Yet, not perish.
I am an inch far in global village
‘They’ ‘re with pro tem bliss
‘They’ ‘re with odd wish
‘They’ ‘re sure at cul de sac.
History refolds in long run.
My ma who left the door open-
Is still alive.
My pa who looked toward his hard earned land
Is still alive.
My the then childish eyes
-Matured. Has witness visualized.
Patriotism blooming
Has hope magnified,
Heart grown stronger,
Amity flourished,
Wit enriched.
Bliss from The bag
Shall be mine one day,
Thro’ The door I shall enter and rise,
The evasive ploy be Mirrored.
I’m still alive.

Tags: Rup Narayan Pokharel