Temple Poem by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih

Deep inside a pine forest,
we sought the mountain.

Between Sohpet Bneng, our holy mountain,
the afternoon rays filtering through the trees,
and the rufescent pine floor,
we had our temple.

I worshipped you again and again.
I made myself humble before you again and again.
I surprised you again and again.

Birds called from everywhere.
Their variety astonished me;
their calls filled me with sadness.
Trees were laid low everywhere.

How long have they got before they go?

And how long have we got, Nameri?
Like them,
people like us
always live on borrowed time.

Everything else was silent.
We spoke in hushed tones.

You inspired me with a range of emotions.
When I bowed down before you—veneration.
When I cleaned your feet—fulfilment.
When I held you in my arms—enchantment.

When our bodies touched,
I expected the tremors of the flesh.

How would I know you would fill me with stillness?
Happiness stunned me.
I felt drugged and drowsy.
I closed my eyes, and I saw
all were dreams; all were visions.
Not once did I tremble with desires.

Such a one as you, I have never come across.

We spoke of the dangers facing us,
our bleak and hopeless world.
I thought of Trump and Bolsonaro
and all the enemies of the earth.
We spoke of Corona and your leaving.

And you wondered why I bent my head
and would not show you my eyes.

All through the evening,
only the noodles you cooked for me;
only the hand that reached for mine;
only the fear you were losing
and the love igniting in your eyes;
bolstered my confidence
as I faced the world,
increasingly dystopian.