Looking for the Lepchas
“Looking for the Lepchas” is part of the collection Indigenizing What It Means to Be Human. Read the introduction to the collection here.
Someone, a poet, is looking for me
I’m looking for me too
I look for myself in the library
Tiptoeing about the dusty shelves
Looking for books that tell me how to be
The Lepchas are docile, shy …
They don’t speak, they whisper …
Did these words become my flesh?
I find that I agree
And then, I don’t
Because I can’t
Still these ghosts that speak to me of mine
Haunt me
I look for myself in the hallowed archives
Where knowledge is bundled up in boxes only a few can touch
Looking for what I must know about myself
The Lepchas know the flora and fauna of their land so well …
I could easily be dead
After eating a mushroom I should have known not to
I look for myself in the museum
Pieces, artifacts, stones, displays
I feel preserved, taken care of, special even
I could as well crawl in there and pose
And then, I grow cold, like the objects staring back at me
I feel endangered
I look for myself in history
I learn of the mighty warrior Pano Gaeboo Achyok
Of how he was killed by a wily enemy
As he and his people ate and drank
I look for glory
I find it fading
And then I realize
I’m looking in the wrong place
Perhaps, I’m looking in all the wrong places
I am still looking for myself
In a snatch of conversation
In an expert’s comments
In an official document
In my people
I am still looking for myself
In a story, in a song, in a poem.