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 An
ex- pat American poet living in Kathmandu
www.photo-poems.com
EARTHSONG (a Nepali poem)
Who will tell us
how to wage war
on misery,
to raise the banner of fields
offering their gifts
to all equally? Not the poseur
in the cafe,
or the hack in print,
or the photographer
who knows how much dark
will place
in the best light
the poor man's
pain -- to be seen by all
(to what purpose?)
Nor the "warrior"
who commands his "soldiers"
to break open the pipes
that carry water, precious water,
to the fields and village
for the bombs
that will burst in the landlord's face
None will tell us,
but the one athirst for life
not her own
Who bears, nurses, tends to
and will not break
beneath the backhand of some
smalltime politician
king in-his-castle
drunken or righteous rage.
Who bends to the earth,
with each season's blessing
She will tell us how
She will tell us now
In the dust-blown corridors of power
no one is listening
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