When I see Kathmandu
as the city of smoke and dust
and
not the cherry blossoms
not the jacaranda flowers
I want to escape the city
the moment I step in…
But when
the street vendor
slowly
talks to me
as if
we have known each other
forever
when the temple bell
strikes
affirming
the presence of god
when I ride
LalitpurYatayat
on the backseat
stare
out of the window
and remember
my long-lost love
I feel at home
intersecting
memory
and forgetting
even in Kathmandu
I long for Kathmandu…
Grey Sparrow Journal 