Bhuwan
01-19-2010, 04:38 AM
Clouds of choking dust
swirl through Haiti,
bodies lie splayed
in a pile:
an expanding
matrix of bereavement.
A man holds
a half peeled orange,
a mother lies
near her daughter,
face dismantled ruthlessly
by the trembling beast.
A young boy
with outstretched arms
seems
crucified.
Who will
cover them with Earth?
Who will pluck some flowers
and place them upon their grave?
All alone,
a wounded survivor
stands apart,
gazing in disbelief
at the sky
frozen by horror
and lost in a Ginsberg daze,
he feels
the world crumbling
in his mouth,
flimsy and frail.
Copyright 2010 Bhuwan Thapaliya
swirl through Haiti,
bodies lie splayed
in a pile:
an expanding
matrix of bereavement.
A man holds
a half peeled orange,
a mother lies
near her daughter,
face dismantled ruthlessly
by the trembling beast.
A young boy
with outstretched arms
seems
crucified.
Who will
cover them with Earth?
Who will pluck some flowers
and place them upon their grave?
All alone,
a wounded survivor
stands apart,
gazing in disbelief
at the sky
frozen by horror
and lost in a Ginsberg daze,
he feels
the world crumbling
in his mouth,
flimsy and frail.
Copyright 2010 Bhuwan Thapaliya