While the mists last
beauty’s stilled, drifting
Did I forget my clear mind
while I was far from
where I’ve never been
I chance upon it now
reflected on mountains
of short pine trees
in an instance
draped without a season
and mediums of grazing animals
that want to speak
A Lhasa Apso pup almost says goodbye
to its home, in the chill of late-afternoon
as it wants me to play some more
Sights of fluttering prayer flags
lofted by mankind
to teach kindness
to celebrate the sky
the air infused by the peaks
as the sunlight stays on in Dirang
I see seclusion that’s also, found in spaces
it’s a difference no more distant
Gold on some lands
where laughter is not joy
I’m tired of happiness
The forest like a mainstay of words
murmurs into the descent
Seized by the far sounds
I’m not freed, again I want
to pass by familiarity
What’s it to be left on this ground
have I found trust
is this sound my root
a hermit that knows nothing
in the town
I don’t plant trees
I believe it’ll grow by itself
I see fruits on homely patches
looking for a good soul
Baked browned earth
gives the clinking or a thud
of a river, or a metal sound
Each rock a face, virgin prism
and me, should I be sad
I didn’t find a place till now
Am I this dripping tumbling cascade
the tree, the center of the earth
Am I certain I’m part of this quietude
in the trees, the river, the ground
What pushes me, when
there’s no need to look for beyond
Raj Kumar Lakhi Kant is a journalist who was with the Free Press Journal and Indian Express, both in Bombay, and later joined the Imphal Free Press in Imphal. He is now a Senior Editor at the Imphal Review of Arts and Politics and stays in Imphal. Twitter: @RajKumarLakhiK1