By Sam Yau
summer heat soaks the air, rickshaws and
cars meander along the dust-clouded streets
drivers cuss, beep and blast their horn
cows, unmoved, block traffic, lay more dung
stray dogs bark amidst toxic haze
riders spew sputum from clogged lungs
brilliant colors of spices on a wheeled cart dart my eyes
exotic birds for sale in wired cages flutter their wings in vain
a monkey perched on an overhanding tree branch swoops down
to snatch a half-eaten apple from my astounded palm
an old yogi with roped hair and a toothless smile stands on one leg
charmers on stone steps play flute to lure slithering snakes to dance
a young mother-beggar clasps her deformed child with big sad eyes
pungent sewage and sweet incense pierce and startle my breath
the embalmed in flamboyant clothes burnt in open air
between wood piles on the banks of the Ganges
ashes scatter in the river where children play
vultures feast on floating singed remains
as the pyre releases the smoke of death
the eternal soul is liberated, heaven-bound
devotees bow under giant eyes painted on temple walls
Shiva, Shakti, Ganesh seem to materialize all around
blue, white, red, green and yellow prayer flags flap
rows of golden prayer wheels swirl
surrounded by towering ice-capped mountains
the plethora of color, sound and smell overwhelm my senses
I float between the silent snow and Kathmandu’s bustling ground
a tapestry of heaven and earth, mundane and sacred, in perfect harmon