For the smell of gunpowder to be a distant memory,
For fires to remind our children of spring and paddy fields,
For the sunlight to be just enough to warm our bones,
For fresh rain to cleanse and give new life,
For nothing to ever make us weep with this much pain again.
My friends, doesn't it all seem so simple
To imagine a shining world of kindness?
My thoughts run wild with dreams,
Simple dreams of what can be.
They tug at my navel and steer me sideways,
They soar like a hopeful white kite in the wide open sky.
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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