I put an end
To this memory rooted
In one place.
The burial ground
Is a coma.
Take me no further
To the delights of yesterdays,
When I seek to hold the cup
Of tomorrows.
Arise, and kiss the sun
Pluck a rose in a thorny moonlight,
The blood on your fingertips,
Is a cold sacrifice in honor
Of lives lost.
That blood does not suffice at all,
It seems.
.
© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor
.