a poem by Geeta Tripathee, Nepal

The faded and pale leaves
When fall by the feet,
On the way of my life,
On the crossroads, on the joints,
There stands my age still
Like the tree stripped.

In the cracks of crumbled road,
When the journey falters
Because of the flatten feet,
There sink my aspiration in fissures
Counting the clock beats;
When life is shortened by grey hairs,
Time signals the winter of my life.

I hate the fort
In the border of my life;
I hate the time
To be hung on the wall;
I hate my being
Fixed in the pendulum,
For I love to flow unfettered.

I have seen the lives
That are doomed to die,
Flee with death in eye,
Stride with death in steps.
The Death has escorted
The quest for insecure safety.

I hate to live the life
Derided by the defiance of death.
I hate to breathe my last
With the Carcasses of dreams.

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