Distant mountains wrapped in lavender clouds
Standing
resilient against nature’s ravages;
Beneath
the vastness of the bluest skies
Lulled
by gurgling streamlets;
Your
stories are the whispers of the wind
Fabled
by monotonous whistles of the valleys.
Beyond
your running chains, you are nought-
Succumbed
by perilous lines of orderly governance,
Undone
by new stories that validate
The
fallacy of an apathetic century’s rule.
Amidst
the struggle for rightful heirdom, you remain
An
enigmatic mass of spiralling mounds
Gazing
long at the unbreakable silence,
While
your sides plummet and your cores tremble,
You convene with the maddening skies
To bring all things to their causal pass;
While
we wary in our earthly commotion
Seeking
for an assurance of normalcy,
Some
wounds are yet to heal,
Some
truths are yet to surface;
And
I wonder, standing on this windy hillock
Bathed
in your evening’s endearing hues:
Will
your stories ever be the whispers of my mouth,
Or
your fables, the monotonous lines of my verse?
Somte Ralte, a writer whose works have been featured on the blog a couple of times before, was awarded a Ph.D. in English literature last year, published a collection of poetry in October also last year, and has just started working at a college in Bangalore. This particular piece, she says, is her "response to the present ramri buai situation (the escalation of hostilities between Mizoram and Assam over the boundary dispute). It's disheartening to see how things are unfolding till date towards the border-issue, and more so at our apparent disengagement from the issue."
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