From Kashmir to Katmandu (draft)

The year, the year, the year gets dark.

Soundless fury, toneless fear, blackness so stark
closing your eyes against it only makes it brighter.

Everything counsels patience, waiting, slowness.
If I sit any more still I will go backwards.

If you had a clue what I think -
If you ever asked how I felt -
If it wasn't all about you -
Maybe there would be me.

Instead, every day is a new misadventure.
I don't tell you anything, I keep myself
in the cage that keeps you safe from me.