Villanelle - Prabahan Shakya

Paining and Pining for Assam: Spring, 2019

-Prabahan Shakya

Maybe I'll step on my soil only as the day turns brown
Your kitchen air flies too far when its rains here
Oh mother will you be home before sundown?

You wrote how the mulberries aren't ripe this month
Morning mists wouldn't taste fresh either I fear
Maybe I'll step on my soil only as the day turns brown.

Whispers and whistles never bothered you much,
but the police car with the arms is switching its gear.
Oh mother will you be home before sundown?

Tears come collateral to the pain of my land
for they say its the price so my kind steers clear.
Maybe I'll step on my soil only as the day turns brown.

You never raised a hand when I broke so much
but today you've rushed to the streets I hear.
Oh mother will you be home before sundown?

Moral crimes and vote banks and broadcasts over tea
In the noise of the radio, our fate draws near.
Maybe I'll step on my soil only as the day turns brown.
Oh mother will you be home before sundown?