The Nightmare Of Jehlum

 

She meets me on Jhelum’s banks,

Where the river carries silent grief,

And tells me the nightmare of a Saint

Who saw red waters flooding

The streets of Kashmir.

Washing away peace from every corner,

From Kulgam to Kupwara,

From Anantnag to Bijbehara to Srinagar.

And of the iron rain falling from the sky,

Tearing through eyes and faces,

Blinding them from asthans and mazars.

And of explosions splitting the sky,

Deafening ears, drowning out prayers.

And a silence replacing the Sofi songs.

She says no one will hear the wails,

No one will see the cracks.

Only the deaf, the blind, and the dead will remain,

Their silence the only voice in this lost Paradise.

Jhelum flows on, unburdened by our grief.

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