Martyr’s Voice

JN Bhandari
Australia

I come from the Dragon Land,
From the unsolved tyrannical hand,
I come from the Blue Mountains
And from the bloody fountains.
I stand upon the hilly terrain,
Watch the tall trees fallen
For more than five hundred years,
With full of hidden fears,
I am proud, I am a Bhutanese.

I come from the lowland hills,
Bounded by the iron pills,
Fought for justice and land
And awaited for fate in hand.
I am a dweller and a son,
I come for reason not for fun,
I am a captive of unsolved land,
Neither a pen nor a hammer in hand,
I am fortunate, I am a Bhutanese.

I am son of a digger,
I am a morn of a fighter
And a captive in a tyrant ruler
But I am a revolutionary puller.
I am a baby of depression,
I am a warrior of suppression,
I dreamt of timely fate,
I am a bush child, I am late
But I am honest, I am a Bhutanese.

I am a unity in diversity,
I am in a land of curiosity,
As I am Kulhagangri of Rhododendron,
I share a voice all in common:
“we all are Bhutanese hearts”
And with the story I burst,
I am an ancient messenger,
Of the deceased but devoted passenger,
I am happy, I am a Bhutanese.

I am the cold wind from Jhomolari,
I am mild breeze from Sallary,
I am the tarred hot plain roads,
I am the edge of the sharp swords,
I am the snow, I am the rain,
Are my dreams just in vain?
I am the Dragon spirit,
I am the hope to reach it,
I am sure, I am among all Bhutanese.