Ambreen Naqash

The bride left
In white velvet.

Yet too tired.
Close to Nature
Not of dead cells
But of silence around.

By the crowd.
Strengthening her voice
To be heard
Accompanied by someone nice.

Riding into the forest
Of no notes.
Searching the owner
Of ragged boots.
Smell of skin
Arch of feet
Still the same
Since the moment
They were tamed.

In remembrance
Of the soul
Who smuggled
Snow last winter.
Leaving behind
An impression of hope
Guiding an unknown
To the lone path.

Like the waves
From the river
She believes
One day sound will
Travel to her life.

Amreen Naqash, a pharma student at Kashmir University, who blogs at http;//afalconn.wordpressdotcom, dedicates her poem to the Half-Widows of Kashmir

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