I wait for a Rescuer

There’s a quarrel in my house:
The foundation fights with the land,
The cellar with foundation,
And each floor with ceilings and walls;
Ceilings and walls with pillars,
Pillars with roof, and roof with the sky.

What’s more!
The lobby loathes the stairs
The stairs sneer at the veranda
The veranda berates the doors
The doors discount rooms
That wince at the windows which vilify the ventilators.

In this home turned hothouse,
My father fights with my mother
Who fights with me and my sister,
And we all fight with our ancestry
That built our history.

Where the roof rebels with the foundation,
Where present precludes the past from guidance,
Where tension touches the minuscule:
My masonry, my carpentry and little liabilities
Wait to be buried in rubbles

I wait for a rescuer!

[Of Nepalese Clay, 2009]