Copy ImageEvery morningI wake up with the newsof bloodshed.I feel my body,desperate to know whetherI’m still alive
Suman Pokhrel
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I like desires like childrenand their playsthat tease me now and then intoknowing life
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Haunted trees covered behind the curtains of their own leaves stare at the dark from the fringe of streets
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When this flood blocks the road I am worried more by my soil getting washed, than by getting late to reach my destination
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Should I ask everyone the question that should not have been asked? Or should I turning up to the sky be answering the question that’s not been asked?
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