Literary Yard

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‘The Missing Link’ and other poems by Bishnu Pokhrel

By: Bishnu Pokhrel


I am that link
and I am missing.
I am that which you
crave and seek actively
yet you don’t recognize me
I am that missing link in you.

You have searched
searched me in everything
sought me everywhere
yet you chose to ignore me vehemently
but couldn’t, you’ve longed for me
something in you knew very well,
very well that I am your missing link.

You could run away
you could choose to disregard me
you could ridicule my very existence
play all your mind games to sooth thyself
but let me say it firm and clear
that I am your missing link forever!



When trees shed its tears,
and leaves fall far away
as a permanent departure of fray
that fall on its feet and insects feast,
the trees dine for these leaves and
then comes spring another day.

When the tree drinks its own tears
from branches and trunks alike
a lonely life of great isolation
as a tree is remembered for its fruit
when it sheds its leaves for us all.

Birds sing selflessly on it
and selfishly abandons its trunks, one day
even when the leaves fall and fly
no call comes from the departed
yet the tree holds itself for another day of spring.

Spring comes and it goes away
Roses bloom and then withers away
I have a life of the lonely tree in distance
no one to hide in my shade, no one,
I am to experience all these seasons
Just like the lonely tree in my distance.



Me separated from myself,
half of me fading to nothingness
and the other half yearning deeply
yearning to be full like it was once
an eternal dissatisfaction that I have
leaving me wanting more and more
the restlessness in me knows no rest.

Once when my heart was lonely
all I wanted were these beautiful things
when I had all those that I yearned
something in me changed in itself
Completeness is a suicide in disguise
life and love is nothing but restlessness.

when you know, you could’ve slept
it’s that stillness that makes you drift away
An eternal dissatisfaction and many reasons
many reasons that I know not of the cause.
Yet when it is absent in me, the restlessness
the restlessness creeps from a source outside
Sometimes from my mind, sometimes my heart
sometimes both and some through my very existence.

I know the day I shall be satisfied with myself,
it would be but a bitter end,
I could have lived a better life through suffering,
than to be a corpse experiencing bliss
No pleasure and pain, no half or full in me,
Eternal dissatisfaction, that’s the restlessness in me.



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