Like a fly he fell
And a cry in the trembled air
The lions roar silent…
Bloody Cashmere; her voice fumbled
“The light is dead”
I lost him. He is nowhere,
Mourners said, “martyrs don’t die” but where did he go?
Where did he disappear? Where can I meet him?
If he didn’t die, then where is he? I’ve tried enough to trace him.
Every errand has failed me. Every find left me hopeless,
Now on this bloody road, I wait for his return
Which he may never choose.
Gowhar was coming; He didn’t tell us.
I’m angry I didn’t bid him farewell,
I’m angry lacs like him left,
With them were left-angry mothers and silent sisters
And an eerie silence
That drenched my city in sorrow, the madness that even braved death,
They might be lacs in number, I’ve lost the track
I’m not counting anymore, I’ve buried enough
Who’ll narrate the tale of my love
Who’ll tell how many died
In burden of corpses the gravedigger buries himself
Burying the unfortunate
The sons and daughters, mothers and fathers
Buried in ghost towns with numbers as names
In our palatial hearts, they remain
Like a memory of a faded infant dream
Burning Cashmere that was once a tourist heart
Now I see from my half open eyes,
The smoke of window and doors,
The muezzin is dead.
Who’ll come this path
To listen to which never happened
I’m on these holy roads
Holy that they smell of blood
Far away in mountains is Faraz
He looks to the other side
The shepherd waves “We are good”
Their houses rubble, their women cry
Golden Chinar looks for its lonely traveler
The tourist of his destiny,
His broken twigs fall on my promised land
Dulacha has returned and our snow is weak.
Richana is dead. Their shrieks don’t let me sleep
I’m calling for help from the peaks of Harmukh,
The rain that’ll never reach
“I’m still alive”
And father said Moses will come
To slay Pharaoh,
Through the mountains the messiah never came
And I wait here to welcome a stranded explorer
The ambulance steals my peace,
And a million mourners roar