Taxi
arrives I
jump in. Like
most
mornings my
driver is Nepalese.
I
want to
I
want to
say something to
express
my sorrow
my solidarity for
whatever
loss he
feels. Words fail.
He
speaks hesitantly,
Have you seen
The
news? My
Country? The earthquake?
He
pours fourth.
That his family
are
safe, but
many souls lost
Eighteen
Everest dead
as mountains moved.
Of
Cultural treasures
reduced to rubble.
I
realised he
didn't need my
words
trite, condolences
just a vessel
to
capture his
own cascading grief
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