Details |
Yonten Thukhotsong Poem
Real life evils with machine Guns to kill,
Ghost of my imagination were there to kill
Or to protect me from the evils.
Believing in myself was what left with me,
Left with my heart, my soul, and my life.
I glanced back, back to where I came from.
I couldn’t see in the darkness of moonless,
In the black vision of the Himalayan forest.
I wanted to see the crust where I came from,
One more time or for the last time,
But it was too dark to see.
I told my heart; it is too late to look back.
I knew I was quite far away,
Far away enough to think what I left
Will be my past, only my past forever.
Heard the sound of evils gun fire,
Running from gun fire, only eight year old me.
Holding my uncle’s hand like I held mother’s once
And convinced myself, I will be just fine with bless of the god,
The only god I believe in – my mother.
Everyone ran and ran, my hand slipped from my uncle.
Where am I? Eight years old boy in the forest of Himalaya,
Looking for his beloved uncle and friends in the moonless night.
Sounds of gunfire was getting closer and closer.
I closed my eyes and asked my mother what to do?
Struggle yourself and face fears, escape from your struggles,
You are escaping to struggle, struggle for a nation.
You have to struggle; escape to have you get the identity: my son.
I ran down the forest, not knowing what is next.
But I listened to my mother in my heart, so I had to run.
Running after my beloved sheep and yaks were paying me off.
But running from evils to escape my fear was scary.
Alas! When this darkness will end I thought.
May be when sun will rise again I said.
Waited for that sun for 59 years now.
Yet there is no Sun rise in my country- TIBET.
I have escaped, escaped to struggle.
Copyright © Yonten Thukhotsong | Year Posted 2015
|