Thangjam Misna Chanu
In the hands of a poet
A sword is given by time.
Emotions are getting slaughtered,
Feelings are being mutilated,
Realities of life are being painted
Again, and again
Over the canvas of imagination.
Then, dreams are murdered everyday
With the dishes in my sink
When I leave them overnight.
Last night a wish was born
With the falling star
Which hit the ground
Of my kitchen floor
When I accidentally drop the pan
From my hand
In this early morning of May.
I burn my heart
Sometimes with breads
Inside the toaster
When nobody is around to
See my wet eyes
Like the grass of my lawn
In the winter night.
With sleepy eyes,
I see me
Dying every day
Before I am alive again
Inside a dream
In a starry night,
Before I am alive again
In an unwritten story
With happy ending,
Before I am alive again
Inside a wish upon a falling star.