The year’s ending but our hearts are still bending
The news man and the weather man are never wrong when you want them to be
But we’ve moved past such dependency,haven’t we?
We’ve moved past bullets and bombs and have come to a place we thought we’d never be,
We carry the weight of the world on our shoulders but faith and hope still hold us together.
Our journey through the shadows shall weave a tale of how we swerve and spin,
A tale where truth sometimes takes its leave,a tale of how we stand and still believe.
We’re haunted by yesterday,tomorrow’s a blurry gaze
And today?
We’re still holding onto a little thread,trying not to lose it.
We recognize ourselves in our shared resilience and strength.
The mothers are sharing their recipes of love and healing,the fathers are discussing freedom,
The brothers are taking turns at the outposts,the sisters are weaving shawls of glory,
The children are playing while the babies can be heard cooing in their crib.
There’s a rose growing from a crack in the ruins of the concrete church across the street.
God must be thinking that we’re strong to give us what we’re going through.
To reach the point of giving up must be the point all along
Because when we’re finally at rock bottom,
That’s when we start looking up and reaching out.
Within this storm,may we see God’s glory
Because through this darkness, God writes our story.
Thingkho Le Malcha (TLM) is a traditional method of communication used to send out messages across the Kuki hills during the Anglo-Kuki War,1917-1919... more
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