GodsWe've broken their statues.
We've driven them out of their temples.
We've burned their holy words.
But still they are alive –
Still in love with this land,
Their souls still bewitch us,
Shaking us with wanting & fear.
During the wake of the dawn,
Our lives seem potent with their lives;
& sometimes old ethereal figures,
Indistinct & innocuous,
Rapid in flight,
Wing across the nearby hills,
Featherlike & soft,
Bright yellow & red,
Outshining the flickering sun,
Our heads with sandbag they stun.
Poetry by Bibek
Read 78 times
Written on 2017-01-03 at 14:15
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