I am not, I am not one of you now.
I have died and buried long ago..and,
My tombstone got unscribed and forgotten by time.
I have no name, no colour, no cast no religion.
I am the stateless merchant from nowhere.
I am the borderless refugee from beyond this world.
I am searching for you in the dark valleys and meadows,
Wandering, and howling like the Himalayan wind.
Hatred in my heart, madness in my mind,
Poison on my tongue I will uncoil death on you.
Like the whirling wind, I shamelessly uncover you.
With hell-like fire ruthlessly I engulf your sanctum.
Still, a river flows immensely inside me but,
The boat capsized, it will not take me to my destiny,
Am stranded inside the dark walls of your oppressions,
suppressions and, I lost my path to my home.
I stood alone naked and helpless in this shore.
When Jhelum washed away a hundred blood-red memories,
Overlapping with apple blossoms and Tulips,
The last trickle of love dried on a red maple leaf in me.
I pained like a creek in between the depth,
In between the depth of the unfathomed mountains…
You have killed my dreams before it breathed life.
They lay in the mountains like the unknown burials…
I am the unsung verses of this depressed land.
But, now my shattered words are pulsing in my veins.
Like the promise of Allah enshrined in a Sufi kalam.
I am the rebel, I’m the poetry of Kashmir.
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