If it's Wednesday, you know it is time for Poetry

I am always intrigued with the manner in which emerging voices find avenues to express their creativity; to take the risk of presenting work to the reading public; to continue to develop their imagination and develop the life-long art of crafting thoughts into poignant words.  On this Wednesday, enjoy Suyasha Subedi.

Gap: (modern day slavery)

Hoisted atop bar of dark chocolate

Wrapped up in uneven shawl

Inside hollow space with division

She wipes scintillating metal wall

Without an envision

She presses round button

That gleams having number

There! There corridor once forgotten

Lustrous slab reflecting light

Confused by eerie thoughts, fright

Yet another time emotions cracked

Tons of dirt, wastage stacked

Perhaps she will be paid

Same old room

Soggy mop, sorghum broom

Burgeoning child had peeped

When previous master thrust her

So she stands aloof letting spit down throat

“The gap, the gap” she requotes

Unable to forget harrowing

She steps into isolated “maid’s room”

What is it?

Wildfire self –lit

Gap of humanity

Affinity of sapiens to slavery

Broken dreams of equality, till when?

Eternity till humans are sane

Dark magic of slavery, rejuvenating in disguise

Until next sunrise, gap remains

Unfulfilled only increasing in size.

*****

Suyasha Subedi (photo provided)

A flower detached from its plant

Plucked up

Or landed after a fall?

An unexpected call

To where she belongs

Crawl back

Will it take long?

She lay on ground

She’s lost but not

Will she ever climb?

The long stem

Will she ever crown?

Amid leaves

Will she be touched?

Felt with sublimity

Will they only watch?

Her on ground

Will they not catch?

Once she is of no use

Who is she?

Beauty only for sight

Will they just step?

With monstrous spikes

Will they only stare?

With curious eyes

Has she failed?

To surprise

Will it be same?

Like it was

When she was on top

Will she regain?

Her flawless spot

Will they grow white?

Her soft petals

Will she be able to live?

In a world full of choices

Will they want her?

Perhaps she is just a flower

Flower no longer profound

Laying on green grassy ground

A flower detached

From its home

A flower wanted no more

A flower half brown

A flower no longer to bloom

A flower without womb.

***

Suyasha Subedi (photo provided)

Suyasha Subedi loves to explore ground reality and put them into words. She is an aspiring poet from Nepal, and a nature lover who sees beauty in everything.  Ms. Subedi is a feminist and supports humane causes.

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