Katunge Bazaar
Nepal
A small village along the crest of a ridge on the old foot highway between Katmandu and Pokhara. The highway sees caravans of mules, and plenty of foot traffic, but no vehicles. There are a couple of tea houses for travelers.
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Jack Heiter writes:
In 1985 my son and I passed this village on our way to Pokhara. We stayed in Pokhara for a few days bicycling around the lake and up into the mountains, it was breathtakingly beautiful. This verse I wrote one foggy morning where it seemed as if the earth and sky were one. I guess it really is.
The passage of night
to awaken in a strange land
where the silence of the mountains
echo through the valleys
leaving turtle doves to coo
to the tune of waking children
whose voices arouse the Poet
from his dreams.
Here where the sky and earth are the same
the misty morning holds you to it’s bed,
the sun seeking a parting cloud
to whisper good morning (Nameste).
Why would I want to leave this place
and return to the noisy city?
Why would I not want to stay
and play in the sun and the rain
and watch the rice fields grow?
Why would I return to where I’ve been
when I know not where I’m going?
How can I compare this great silence
with that I’ve called my home?
How can I end this poem
when there is no ending?