Santosh Kumar Pokharel
(To war victims late Nada, Talia and Isaac from Gaza and Jerusalem)
The war flashed up bright abrupt
The sky was blazed with flames aloft
There was a poetess Nada, by name
In Gaza that was not to defame
But then it was the day of doom
She was composing her lyrics in room.
A bomb untold did fall off the sky
No one could guess it happened why
The bomb smashed her building to dust
Nada was gone, no one would trust.
She went above with dust that rose
Up high in heaven and won’t compose
Her poems for peace in earth, no more
Will find her never as was before.
She couldn’t know for what she had died
For other’s sake those peoples divide
Shattering the lands for handfuls of soil
Killing each other and heaping spoil.
Telia would greet her, beheaded Isaac
Those had fallen dead in heinous attack
They all implored that futile war
That destroyed all their moon and star.
November 3, 2023. Gaighat, Nepal