For My Daughter from Quarantine.
There is a parade of death outside
Through a window in a closed room,
I watch
Your childhood, relive memories
I attend funerals of my dreams,
Confront tsunamis of fear and panic.
Smiles are wiped off my face
Colour are gone from the flowers.
I stand on the shores of my life
Replaying your smile, and
Wishing you health and a long life,
My daughter.
Maybe we will meet, maybe not
What are your dreams like,
What are your thoughts,
You would share with me
Your progress in school today
And an award with your name and photograph
Me? I’m in my quarantine room.
Planning your present and future
Near a joyless Arabian Sea
A windless desert
And soundless cities.
Maybe death is waiting
To end millions of dreams
Our social distance.
(Art by Jeet Khadka; This poem was included in the Nepali Times' Diaspora Diaries series: https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/in-the-minds-of-nepal-s-migrant-workers)