(1)
In the mirror
the hangman
looks so like my silence
that I wish I was born as
a million tongued word
meaning freedom
there are no flowers
like that of moon
(eclipsing over old mountains)
no resurrection other than its absurd cycles
but then
the way some people
longingly gaze at the first daffodils
fills me with horror
how do I tell them
that bereft of metaphors
spring is just a season
(2)
You were tired of my faith in absence
see how past has arrived
in your country of masks
proclaiming the nightfall of myths
unlike you I don’t
question the verity of river
carrying songs of uncounted years in its bosom
or the ancient truth of shrine wish knots
turning the rosary of hope
your skepticism
is just longing for a miracle
take a leap of faith and you shall feel
the garland of epitaphs hanging around our necks
in the lasting wilderness of yoked centuries
milestones stand defaced like darkness
and no roads exist except for
the dirt tracks of lost voices
so, unlearn everything
to see how every wall
is an eye
Bio: Insha Muzafar is an poet based in Kashmir who feels poetry like resistance enables people to see alternative possibilities of being by challenging the hegemonic narratives set by institutions and people in power.