A Voice From Nepal
The mountains of Nepal wept in silence,
while the young carried torches of truth.
Their voices rose, sharper than swords,
against the masquerade of wealth and power.
“Corruption is the plague of kings,” they cried,
“a disease passed from palace to palace,
from Europe’s marble halls to Africa’s dust,
from America’s towers to Asia’s streets.
And yet—
the people are the government,
and the government is nothing
without the trembling hands of the people.”
They spoke of stolen bread,
of children starved by greed,
of golden cups raised by rulers
while the poor drank shadows.
This injustice is not a nation’s wound—
it is the wound of the world.
The voice of Nepal whispered to France: “Act.”
It thundered to the United Kingdom: “Awaken.”
It echoed through America’s iron cities,
and Africa’s silent fields: “Rise.”
Shall we continue to kneel
while thieves wear crowns?
Shall the future be auctioned
for a banquet of the few?
No—
the youth shall not kneel.
They will burn the chains of fear,
tear down the veils of deceit,
and ignite a fire no tyrant can contain.
The voice of Nepal does not die in valleys;
it climbs the summits of the earth,
it cries in sorrow, yet commands in power:
“Revolution is not chaos—
it is the last prayer of justice.”
And when the old order crumbles,
when the palaces collapse into dust,
a new world shall rise,
not of marble, not of gold,
but of fairness,
of dignity,
of hope shared by all.
Until then,
the voice of Nepal will echo,
a flame passed hand to hand—
burning, weeping, demanding:
“No more kings of corruption.
No more empires of theft.
The world belongs to us all.”
Copyright ©
Chanda Katonga
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