Turning Point

Gazing intently at
Clouds in the sky of gloom
Glow with iron-hot red
As if my wounds ripe enough
To burst as active volcano erupts
Quite confused I am for
My eyes can't differentiate
The lights from sunrise or sunset
Filtered through the clouds
Or the patch of clouds that
Bleed from vein of victims
Of war, war or terror
Or morning light of the day returned
With my firm belief in mind
To let me breathe freely on the air
Standing still like a milestone
On the Turning point

Copyright 2002 Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

(translated by the author himself from his
original version in Nepal Bhasa)