Poem – Jogging

We stood in columns

 like sheep before slaughter 

we ran, breathless 

We scrambled to kiss 

the shoes of the killers. . . . 

They stole Jesus the son of Mary 

while he was an infant still. 

They stole from us the memory of the orange trees 

and the apricots and the mint 

and the candles in the mosques. 

In our hands they left 

a sardine can called Gaza 

and a dry bone called Jericho. 

They left us a body with no bones 

A hand with no fingers. 

After this secret romance in Oslo 

we came out barren. 

They gave us a homeland 

smaller than a single grain of wheat 

a homeland to swallow without water 

like aspirin pills. 

Oh, we dreamed of a green peace 

and a white crescent 

and a blue sea. 

Now we find ourselves 

on a dung-heap. 

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About भण्डारी2013

Has a reflective and idealistic types of personality. Loves to participate in Social activities. Extremely loyal by nature. Laid back unless a strongly held value is threatened and a talented writer too.
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