By Purobi Jarampusa
In a misty hue, I forage for a path,
Marching across the seven oceans,
Dark clouds loom above us,
Sheer fear bequeaths the tribe,
Despair beneath the falls of Linn,
I halt my boat.
Drifting through seasons
Until the falls arrived,
I covered under the blanket of shame,
wonder how the realm sees my dilapidated tribe.
Yet stillness remains.
Soaked in fear of drowning,
down the stream,
to the shallow misery.
But now I see the yarn,
Pouring out of eyrie.
I Sew all my yarn again,
to be the light of my tribe
shut the glazing chain,
to the long history of dome disparity.
The dawn upon us
showering scatter rays
on the dew of new life
lift my arms as wide as Himalayans,
to embrace the waves of life.
I sail through my life,
voyaging across
Paradise until
I reach the horizon.
--- my pen name is Ang Jarampusa