One Year And A Score

By Awungrinchon Khangrah

Dearest Mama,

I am back in school.

Only now, a teacher and this- my room.

I teach words and lyrics for children to bloom.

On love and compassion, fire and ice-

Every day I come and carefully cast the dice.

The other day in two consecutive lessons,

We read, pondered and talked about mothers, grandmothers and grandsons.

The poetess and the author-

They told us about their fear, grief and laughter.

Some said in full what they saw, felt and accepted;

And some, they said but only in half-

The other half silenced by silence.

Mama, the children here-

Many have lost somebody dear.

A mother for sure among them all,

I feigned strong and did stand tall.

But all through the lessons then,

I felt it all over again.

The fire in the poetess’ heart that grew-

Of her childhood’s fear and old wounds made new.

Only Mama,

My dearest Mama-

(As I stood there in front that day,

One year and a score I counted that day-

Since you last walked

and talked,

and laughed like forever you’d stay)

I feared for father and not for you…

Never you gave me the chance, did you?

By Awungrinchon Khangrah