i was thinking about a house.
an old house in the hills
built with hope.

there is no design,
only the functional lines

laid out in solid walls and beams.
here the light shines brightly;
the sun pours in on the wide verandas,
on the old wood and
the wild tufts of grass.
it is a house where the obligations
of birth, marriage and death
are fully recognized and celebrated.

the sun rises every morning.
lives grow and change,
the wind surrounds the house
with envy and longing.
storms crash against it and
lightning flashes its sword.
yet in every generation
an old man and a woman
sit in their chairs
on the veranda
talk long
into the night,

as if the house
and what it represents

will always find
rebirth and live forever.

mamang dai in stupid cupid

what does he want?

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ten rupees
but we
gave him
aalu muri

“to laugh often and much;
to win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
to earn the appreciation of honest critics
and to endure the betrayal of false friends.
to appreciate beauty;
to find the best in others;
to leave the world a bit better
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch,
or a redeemed social condition;
to know that even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived.
this is to have succeeded.”

-raph waldo emerson