by 20:15 0 comments
Oh Kashmir, where is your Jannat? 

I am freedom, look at me, they say I taste of heaven,
I am the dance of Kashmir, at the lone death of eleven.

I am the songs of her silence, the whisper of all that remains,
When the last bullet shreds his little heart, and it is his mother's that pains.

I am his last shred of sanity, before he picks up that silver knife,
I am freedom, look at me, I am everything his father gambled in life.

I am the dead knock on the door of the little orphan girl,
I am the shout of the brave soldier, before his final curl.

I am the sorry sigh of the last inch of that woman's grace,
When she's burning on her death pyre, and her mother's getting raped.

I am the voice of reason, that he kills before thinking twice,
I am the noise of the cannon, I am what feeds his lonely pride.

I am the one lying on the road, when you shut off your eyes,
I am freedom, look at me, I am the truth of all your lies.

I am the scars of your memories, which have promised never to fade,
I am your wife's final cry, when she's up on the pedestal of trade.

I am the living body, dead in the gutter outside your lane,
I am what you choose to ignore, I am the death at your grave.

I am the old man's call for his mother, when he's being burnt alive,
I am the price tag on that woman's beauty when she's selling herself at night.

I am the voice of that stranger that dies before it could ever rise,
I am freedom, look at me, I am your beautiful Kashmir in disguise.

I am the last scream of the lover who still thinks that he is free,
I am the torn clothes of his mistress, I am the dead sister of three.

I am freedom, look at me, they say I taste of heaven,

My free wings spread in their entirety, and a curfew after seven.


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