By Bibek Adhikari
A Lament, A Prayer
This slow sweltering summer day
the suburb seems to be sleeping,
succumbing to the heavy & humid daytime lull.
I walk from room to room
with a glass of fizzy drink,
losing track of time
with my multifarious musings.
I sit down to work
amid the late afternoon susurrus sneaking
in from the latticed windows.
I put my pen aside —
and there it rests on the table,
too tired, too reluctant to write about
all the paralyzing things happening
in the world.
My mushy brain throbs
in its liquid room,
swimming in endless tragedies
of faraway places.
At home, there’s birdsong
and a willful indifference,
though the heart is not impervious
to losing.
Days go by.
Sparrows cheep and flutter,
moths die on window panes,
nothing arrives—
not a single news of the ones
who left us in these sleepy suburbs,
full of endless waiting.
Bibek Adhikari writes poetry and fiction. He lives in Kathmandu and works as a freelance technical writer and editor.
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