desert

Monsieur,
do you have a little water ?

Fire ?
It was water i was asking for,
Monsieur !

Donn’t you know-
that when there’s a drought of compassion
fire spills all over the kingdom of life,
rises in flames
and hunts for every bit of harmony ?

O, is that so ?
That means, only fire is cultivated here ?
Don’t flowers ever bloom in this part of the world ?
Don’t the cuckoos rove about ?
Are there no fountains that spew water,
just enough to quench one’s parched throat ?

O, vultures ?
Mountains of cactuses ?
That means, no pigeon ever croons here ?
Is valture the national bird
and cactus the national flower here ?
That means, no rose ever opens up ?

If so, I beg your pardon, Monsieur !
I happened to lose my way
and run, by mistake,
into the human kingdom.

-Phulman Bal Tamang