The Plight Of A Priest Poem by Matrika Pokharel

Every morning
I go to the Sahid Gate
to show my obeisance
but a shameless bust I loathe
that sits above the statues of the martyrs
forwards its neck
to receive the garland first.
I am an unfortunate priest
of the Sahid Gate!

I am ready, rather
to walk uphill on the Sailung slope
with flowers of the woods
in honor of those who die for future
but I don't, at the least wish
to adorn a loathsome history
with garlands.
Henceforth
it is of no worth
coming to the Sahid Gate
to honor the martyrs.
It would be far better
to make Sahid Gates
on the bare lawns in our villages.

I can reckon
that surveyors are making plans
to erect a throne
above the head of the martyrs.
I am an unfortunate priest of the Sahid Gate.

Yet,
mounted on stallions
Junga Bahadurs
are staring from behind
at the martyrs' statues at Sahid Gate.
Every night at Tudhikhel
meetings are called for
to make plans to crush my faith
and in one of its scenes
I have frequently seen
Narasamsher raising his finger.
I must, now
erect a new statue
of martyrs with swords in hand
and place it atop the Dharahara
or on lawns in my own village.
I, an unfortunate priest of the Sahid Gate!

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Sahid Gate: a gate in Kathmandu constructed in honor of four martyrs who were hanged by the Ranas for pro-democracy movement