Print Edition - 2016-09-24  |  On Saturday


- Sanjit Bhakta Pradhananga

Sep 24, 2016-



The owl’s lament 

Again tonight

There is thunder and lightning

A busy world is sound asleep.

Screaming children and their crying mothers,

Rebel sons and their silent fathers,

Stoic daughters and their tired lovers

Rocked to sleep by a quivering earth

Perched on an axe blade.

And for a hushed second

No one is going anywhere,

The night is deep

The silence so dark you could hear it like an


And there are no bugles tonight

No beacons

Only mad drums thumping a color red,

And for a trembling second

Like a dagger thrust into a 

Rupturing sack

The night spills out her giggling secrets

Onto quiet ears.

A busy world is sound asleep,

And when it stirs,

These rains will have washed 

everything anew.

It will not matter

That again tonight

There was thunder and lightning.



What the thunder said

I have no patience

To carve and elegy 

To a phantom

In a hyacinth garden

Or to brew a diatribe

Against the huddled masses of the dead

Walking uphill

On a thundering evening.

But listen, here is what the thunder said,

“Tomorrow’s rain has come out 

To pour today,


Be aware.”

Before it rumbled on,

Into Dhading. 

Published: 24-09-2016 08:42

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