By Akoijam Malemnganbi

I died as an infant in my mother’s womb,
Before I made my entrance.
I died as a little girl trying to go to school,
Inside the sack, raped and murdered.
I died as a foolish young man in the car,
Trying to get away among the bullets,
A prey to their wishlist.
I died as a young mother, pregnant and helpless
In front of my little son.
I died as an insurgent,
With boots and shirts not of my own.
I died as a lover,
With my breast cut off like a life size doll.
I burned myself in a protest,
In front of thousands of eyes.
Thus my ashes get blown away in the wind.
I starve myself to death, with greedy eyes all around me.
Thus, I die, little by little.
I die a little, every second that counts.
I die a little, with every new news.

My redundant chant bores you,
It confuses you just for a while,
While the pain lingers
And haunts ceaselessly.

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