Amit Pokhrel
Looking at my dying father,
I could smell my heart rotting—
Like dead flesh.
We all must have known what it means to die.
For even when we seem to sense love and goodness
We get the hint of forthcoming melancholy
Though we know: all souls are lost and found!
I’ve tried! I’ve tried enough to be seen.
I’ve tried enough to be heard.
Life gives nothing but a lost feeling.
A sadness. Just the damp feeling!
As if, I’m almost nothing but a bleak of sand…
…to be engulfed by the vast desert!
As if, my footsteps are directionless…
Drifting over puddles of blood.
For everything created is to be destroyed!
Oh Mother, I’m ready!
Please take me back to your womb.
And, let one more child be born…
…to replace the vacancy my existence has thus created.
May my body feed the birds and my bones be cremated.
But, let my eyes see the world, naked.
[Amit Pokhrel is a poet and a student of philosophy based in Kathmandu. He has self-published collection of poems, Your Majesty Government, Let the Fucking Silence Speak for Me, & Other Prose Poems.]