I carry your letter with me all the time.
I carry it because I can see,
how sharp pricks it has.
I carry it so that I can feel the frost in it.
Your letter reminds me of the injury
I once had. On a grey day, I had fallen
on the dusty road from the bullock cart.
The wheel had run over my shin.
How I wreathed in pain until
I fell unconscious !
It reminds me of the evening
when I was bitten by a snake.
Papa tied my left leg with a rope,
not to let the poison climb up my body.
How I shivered with a shock!
This letter has winter in it,
and I carry it because I want
to grow immune to the cold.
Once I defeat this letter,
I will have no winter and no cold.
Poetry by Mukul Dahal
Read 731 times
Written on 2009-01-31 at 21:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)