Pain Poem by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih

'Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may
stand in the sun, so must you know pain'. — Kahlil Gibran

Alone on a birthday
I went out to the quiet evening
to watch the early moon.

Upon the hills
the jacarandas wore blue
and willows stood with bowed heads
before the stumps of native pines.

There are many things
to be sad about in this life
many things that become a misfortune
many things I would like to wash
with the aroma of sweet soap
thrash like a washerman
on the smooth washing stones.

There was not much pain at my birth
not much pain at any single event.

Pain grows with the years
deepens like a blemish
and wraps around life
like a cruel mismatch.

Upon the hills
the fireflies twinkled
and the early moon waited
creeping silently across the sky.

In the gathering gloom
I watched the early moon, waiting
for the night to thicken.