Ode to Yaoshang

Look at them
they were the ones
who march the streets
with tearful eyes
look at them
in joy with laughter
like a spring tree in evening wind
they are burning the sungs
in every leikai
they are walking house to house
stepping from doors to doors
"Nakatheng, Nakatheng"
breaking their usual path
from Morgue to cemetery

the night is celebrated with drums,
tube-lights, with local liquor
pouring into their justice thirsty mouth
like a peasant in field
in the first seasonal rain
If the whiteness of boiled eggs mean peace,
this night is a feast of peace
cooked in the kitchen of the poorest of the poors
with flames from the burning pine trees from the hills

Look at them
They have moved on
departing my poetry of blood and anger
Everything changes now.
look at them shining in the light
encircling them in such times of darkness.
have they given away their past
to the evil spirits on Lamta Thangja?

How well dressed they are
they were ones the naked children
of the naked mothers.
they have blocked the roads with ropes
with their sweet smiles
so there, the cars, the bikes, the buses spray the money
in their Joypur;
So unlike the highway blockades
and daily robbery at gun points.

Look at them
they are as colourful as the forgotten flag
of the seven colours.
the fragility of the land has been replaced by Pafor
politicians can be seen in the fancy dress show
and you can laugh at them
revolutionaries are falling in love in Shumang leela
converting their demand letters into love letters

Look at them
I must stop my poem now
before it bleeds

Dated 28th March 2010