Where to, shall we now row in Kashmir?
No more does the Vyeth flow in Kashmir.
See how we are smiling in sepia tones
Ah! It is just an old photo in Kashmir.
Lest it bring the memories of peace
They no longer allow snow in Kashmir.
Saffron does not grow in blood and tears
What should they then sow in Kashmir?
How can you tell a lost son is dead-
The mothers should by now, know in Kashmir.
We don’t have springs after winters
Winds of change do not blow in Kashmir.
Not everything is lost, do visit us
If not peace you’d find woe in Kashmir.
Tis just that our prayers don’t leave mountains
Otherwise we do bow in Kashmir.
If grenades could burst into seeds
Where should they but grow in Kashmir.
Death may mean so many things to you
But it is just an echo in Kashmir.
Why should you tremble at every knock
Doors don’t open but blow in Kashmir
They are not yet done with our slaughter,
The vultures are so slow in Kashmir.
All land has now been sold out for graves
What should they now plough in Kashmir?
What is now left
Are wrinkles of memory
Gnarled into indecipherable hieroglyphics
Over the walls vandalized
By hordes of time…
At some time,
It would have all made sense-
The ruins of this city.
Bio: Shabir Ahmad Mir from Gudoora, Pulwama Kashmir; gets bored every now and then. And out of this boredom he scribbles- sometimes in prose and sometimes in verse; and occasionally in ink as well-blue and black only. Earlier he used to scribble on loose paper leaves of his class-notes (he sometimes imagines that they were fallen leaves of a forgotten tree) but now he mostly scribbles on his Facebook wall… Occasionally someone drops in to read.