Saturday, February 11, 2017

Why I Write (and other poems) - Jake Hruaixela Khiangte

Why I Write

Why do you write?
they asked me once,
though absurd the premise
and childish maybe
I gave an answer nobly.

Why, you ask?
Do you ask the sky
why it's blue?
Or the winds
why it blows reinless?

It's because it is
the way it's meant,
and that too I must
write my own laments
like anyone should.

So I answer you now,
of the question you raised;
Why do I write?
I write because I must,
because I must.



Death came knocking at my door
garbed in black from head to toe.
He dragged his frame across the floor
and whispered to me, "I am no foe."

I cowered, my back against the wall,
as my final moments passed me by
I heard the others and their call,
and dared to ask my waiter why.

He showed me things I saw before,
From baby steps to love's first kiss,
to hedonistic practices, and much more
I wished the ethereal keeper to miss.

"Come now, there is nothing here
that may alter your given fate,
There is no harm - nothing to fear,
only to rest and only to wait."

"Wait, for the love of the Virgin,
wait," I gasped as I fought him back.
He showed his face; a perpetual grin -
a visage of grey in a sea of black.

He proceeded to stare into my soul,
and I saw therein the ultimate flaw -
He was merciful, yet he is foul
to the living and to life's flow.

"I am a necessity, endless and kind,"
a cold voice spoke as the day proceeded,
"You fear me and it makes you blind
to the little things like deeds and misdeeds."

"I bring no suffering, I bring you peace,
yet you fail again and time again
to understand that there is peace
after one's last sun and one's last rain."

"No more of the petty wars you fought,
no more of the disease that eat away
your heart at  every waking thought;
No more lonely nights, no more day."

"Only rest, my son, only rest  -
For you are tired, you have endured.
Let it go now, it's for the best,
You are now free, you are now cured."

I got up and walked  to him,
a pale man he was - from head to toe,
Death smiled as if on a whim
and whispered again, "I am no foe."



She is lost.
Lost in the deep pool
of his eyes
that shine like beacons
on a starry night.

He found her.
She found him.
Like two vortexes that meet
and disperse
they found each other.

Now we watch.
And we wait.
For them to fail again
like all mortals who dream

eventually do.


Jake Hruaixela Khiangte has a postgraduate degree in Zoology from Mizoram University, and is presently preparing for his combined service exams. He says he became interested in poetry "by luck" in high school when he came across Kipling's If  and read it through ten times for his viva the next day. Sadly, he couldn't recite it the following day so the teacher made him write it out ten times. That got him hooked on poetry, and he's been writing ever since.

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