-Justin Metha
The nightingale sang that night, but a sorrowful song.
The black flag flew overhead as mourning dawned.
The cold bitter, the night long.
Tears fell as hearts wept forlorn.
Yesterday’s ashes turn into today’s anguish.
The cries echoed, but the silence spoke louder.
The hills turned lifeless
As they mourned the lives for which they couldn’t care less.
What then does tomorrow bring?
Another nightmare to amplify the sting?
A disturbed area—yet the only thing disturbed is our peace.
We seek solace, if only a piece.
The talks ramble on, but little do they speak.
The words muttered in vain as they forget what we seek.
CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT
Justin Metha is a graduate in English from Tetso College and is currently preparing for the Civil Service examinations. In this poem, he ruminates on the Oting incident of 4 December 2021.
Silent Hill, as the poem is titled, reflects how the celebrations during what is perhaps the most festive time of the year in Nagaland fell silent following the events in Oting that year. For him, the poem is an attempt to look into the grief of those most affected by the tragedy, though he acknowledges that words can only do so much.
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