In a land where tricolors wave,
A story of strength and freedom, we engrave.
1947, a year of pride, a nation's stride,
Independence won, a moment we hold inside.

Har ghar tiranga, they say with cheer,
In celebration, the nation draws near.
But amidst the joy, a shadow cast,
In Manipur's heart, struggles unsurpassed.

Sisters and brothers, so brave and strong,
In the face of adversity, they belong.
Caught in a conflict, a battle unseen,
Fighting for their land, their dreams intervene.

Independence Day dawns, yet tears remain,
A chorus of pain, a heart-wrenching refrain.
Lost in a war, a plight untold,
In Manipur's embrace, sorrow takes hold.

Families shattered, lives torn apart,
Yet their courage shines, a light in the dark.
Amidst neglect, they stand tall,
Facing trials that challenge them all.

What must they feel, on this sacred day?
When the world rejoices in a different way,
Their sacrifice profound, their suffering real,
Yet their pleas unheard, their wounds concealed.

Hope flickers like a fragile flame,
In the midst of despair, they whisper a name,
For justice, for peace, they yearn and plea,
Hoping one day, their land will be free.

Let us not forget, in our celebration's sway,
The price some pay, in a shadowed fray.
For Manipur's souls, in pain and woe,
May hope arise, may healing flow.

As we honor the past and look ahead,
Let's stand united, our voices spread,
To bring an end to the silence profound,
In Manipur's struggle, let compassion resound.
© Lily Grace