i wake up to the fears,
of the drowning of the trembling tears in your eyes;
i escape, and re-awake, the monster that had forever stayed inside;
awaiting pain, smelling fear, i come near to you and looks you straight in the eyes;
and there is no way to go,
you give in and are consumed by it.
run. run far away, for it will be the end of you too; i am beyond saving.
run. there is no point in praying.
the dynamites are lodged in the mountains
and will blast away all the trees,
and there just be hell, fire and brimstone left to see.
skin charred, flesh melting, bones burnt,
intertwined, lost, naked, lustful, consumed;
no point waiting here for the sun
misunderstood, uncomprehending; unsung; the non-sequitur violence.
the valley now lives on the other extreme; still silent.
is this kashmir or our impulses?
is it radicalisation or our craving bodies?
is it grenades or our lips?
is it separatists or our mistakes?
is it the beginning or is it too late?
is it love or is it hate?
kashmir holds the answers but chooses silence;
we pick up the guns, choosing violence.
both are wrong.
should have listened to the songs.
now we watch the sun set by the shore,
and remember, forever, quote the raven,”nevermore”.