From ghettos of despair, where dreams are left to die,
To camps of dark oppression, beneath an indifferent sky,
Their cries for recognition, for dignity, and peace,
Are met with cold indifference, their suffering won't cease.
Their stories often silenced, their voices drown in pain,
By those who hold the power, who revel in their reign.
The color of their skin, their faith, or who they love,
Becomes a twisted reason to push, to hate, to shove.
In cities full of promise, they walk on streets of fear,
Their heritage a target, their future never clear.
Their cultures rich and vibrant, now shadows of the past,
As hate's consuming fire ensures their pain will last.
But through the darkest hours, their spirits fiercely glow,
In art, in song, in whispers, their strength begins to show.
For though they're often broken, and though the night is long,
The dawn of justice beckons, and love's enduring song.
So let us not be silent, let us rise and take a stand,
For every soul mistreated, in every troubled land.
May empathy and kindness, in every heart take root,
Till the world respects all voices, and prejudice is mute.
For in the heart of sorrow, lies the seed of change so true,
A world where all are equal, where love can shine on through.
To the minorities enduring, your struggles aren't in vain,
For through the veil of darkness, we'll see the end of pain.
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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