City Poem - Prabahan Shakya

My song is not one of oppression it is instead
A story of a possibility that in this forsaken city
Yes I could maybe
Believe that I have learnt to offer love
Even in solitude.

My family in the city is imagined
And I don't know another person with the same name
Yet I know that every inch in this rented flat has sometime
Before been tread by a vaguely written Mrs. Singh who shouts
Even in solitude,  and after all it is a city of

Master and Slaves, the broker shops opposite my window
And the momo sellers wouldn't look each other in the eye,
Yet the former comes over for some change and
Before he leaves the corner for other corners I could see that
Even the latter stared at the big man looking for some change. 

I've learnt to sip tea alone in this city.

Could you imagine a city where every person knew the other
Ones who are long gone remembered by their lovers alive and
Under the skin of every house and ramshackle would
Live thousands of communal ministries
Dealing with human happiness.

Someday the colons and the commas and the crevices of the city would
Lie in the sand where some new flowers shall await to grow, and
Even in the pall of the winter dark
Even in the chaos of the relentless rage, I shall stand
Pining for the sobriety and silence of the city light.