Some lines for my Assamese friends; for their river and the way of life that is perhaps the end of a 'time'.
His River
On the banks of his river
He stands; A net in hand
Not any river
But the mighty Brahmaputra
Generations
Have called it home
The mighty Brahmaputra
Melancholy; he stands
The Ahom fisherman
Last of his line
Fated; Or Cursed?
To see the river die
His sons are far away
And they shall never know
The love and the pain
Of the patient stirrings
The legacy
Of the mighty Brahmaputra
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