Sunday, 9 October 2016

Let's distract ourselves.
There's Dal.
The chinars.
The apples. The 'kashmir ki kali's.
No. Please, no negatives
Look, our paradise.
Ours. Ours. ours.
The swollen faces
Redder than apples
No, not ours
Pellet fed.
Stones fight and guns win.
Trace the frail ups and downs
In the whistle you hear
They distract themselves with
Hiding
Waiting. Years now.
Waiting
Drawings left by stones
Before they took to the streets
On shanty walls. Dark.
Stones can only ashen
Drawings, never bright
Children, they are.
Were.
A lullaby crawl through the floor
From the door it returns
Hush.
Silence of the curfew
Heaves.
Beyond the door
Burns a void.
Void lulled to sleep in cradles, never cry.
Kalis, stripped. Raped.
Killed. Left to live.
Fight.
Smirk at you
Your admiration
Your songs of love
Scream. Scream in rage.
Scream.
Distract yourself.
Can, will you?
Dal. Pellets.
Chinars. Blood. Jhelum.
Unrest. Kalis.
Paradise and stones.
Freedom. Blood.
Music. Bleed.
Words. Bleed.
Freedom.
Theirs.

1 comment:

  1. What you're saying is completely true. I know that everybody must say the same thing, but I just think that you put it in a way that everyone can understand. I'm sure you'll reach so many people with what you've got to say.

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