Morning Mirror

It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

When I see the morning mirror
I see myself among the graves
I see people lost of their senses
I see women screaming while looking at the coffin
I see as if I am in Kashmir
When I blink
I see myself standing in front of me
The words buzz in my mind
It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

The pine trees adorned with snow
The peaceful rivers coming from glaciers
The lakes with the houseboats
The dazzling mountains in the sunsets
The tea in the samavaar
They all remain
But they have no place in my stories
You could ask me, why?
Because I saw blood and pain
I saw young sons wrapped in shrouds
I saw waiting mothers and half widows
I saw tears and fear in eyes
I saw funerals and graves
I saw bullets and pellets
I saw eyes being torn
I saw red, only red
And that’s what I see while I wake up
When I see the mirror
I see myself among them
And I say,
It could have been me, who could have died that day
But by the grace of Allah, I am alive

Is Not Destiny Ahead?

Is not the destiny ahead?
Then stop and ease for a while
Nothing is lost, no hope had died
Still the dreams are alive
Pain is like a season and will pass too
Imagine the sun and rain, both are winsome

Why should not I tell you about the snow in my Land?
White and pure
My hands shiver in the cold, but my eyes dazzle with brightness
The struggle of my land had taught me love
Like a lesson written in the book
It is true that Kashmir is beautiful
But our tears are more
They hide and express every emotion
They reflect in our smiles like the images on the mirror
We have learnt to live with them as a blessing
As the pious souls shed them remembering Allah
A mother in the memory of her martyred son
They flow from the eyes of the father, sister and friend too
Carrying the burden of our sufferings
And address them to Allah
Making our tounges to utter the same line
Is not destiny ahead?
Peace is yet to come

A Smile

My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
I touched the soil and felt no love of rain
I wanted to cry out my tears to feel that touch
But what could you expect from this harsh desert?

Yes! My smile is just an unspoken words of pain
My laugh is squalling of my heart
I succeed by remaining unrecognisable
What have I became inside

A story of millions of tears
Keeps flowing like a Brooke of my scenery
I blur the pain but lost I stand
In search of peace and happiness

My unspoken words of pain have become a smile
But deep I cry
I have become a tale of my valley
Not heard anywhere in the cities

Let me live with these Sighs

Land of the faces devoid of emotions
A common pain, a common grief
Where is the freedom? Where is the justice?
There is tyranny, there are graves

I want to run away far in the mountains
Where snow never vanish, where there is cold
I want to freeze my feelings, freeze my emotions
Freeze my tears, to let them live for ages

O Kashmir! O beautiful!
Your rivers are like hair lock on a beautiful face
Poets wrote you for ages like a dream
But today you scream and the cities are silent

Let me live far away on these mountain
You look beautiful to my eyes
Let me live with these sighs!
Let me live with these sighs!

Grave of Graves

A valley, holocaust of souls
Inferno of sore stories
Grave of graves! Grave of graves
With some inscribed, and other lay unidentified

Landlocked and barricaded ways
Where to go? No one knows
Now, It is just a Valley
Losing the unsung words in this deadly silence

Love wants to escape through the crevices in mountains
How those hearts could hold?
When the smoke in the streets burned the tissues
Our faces are now just characters victimized by pretension

I am a Kashmiri, I am Kashmir
Never ask me anything of my well-being
I don’t want my existence to be humiliated, because
When we suffered and you stood silent

Mother of Martyred Blood

It is true! That…
Every sight of my eyes kiss that valley
But Known to me is that, there are mothers of martyred sons
I just heard the story of one
My heart and soul began to cry
O mother, of my lost unknown friend and brother!
No written words could do justice to your heart
No pages of history will take your pain into account
Your injured soul has blood, oozing but unseen by blind eyes
As if the world has turned into a mere lie
I read the words of one mother, I shivered as they read


Your pain is blowing with the cold winds trapped in this valley
God will make them fall like a lightening on the wicked ones
Your tears will fall like stones over them
What they afflicted you with?
A merciless separation
Will render them devoid of mercy in this world
The earth and sky is crying by your side
But why this world still lay deaf and dumb?
Has the heart of people living in love of world died?
Has the beats gone too far to only remain to mimic the ugly songs?
You are the mother of Wamiq Farooq
Zahid Farooq, Inayath Khan, Osaib, Tufail Ahmad………..
You are the mother of the martyred blood
You are the mother of the tears of the Valley, Kashmir
And one of yours line read and I couldn’t stop crying

Revolution

Revolution says
Just a moment away
But you have to fight
For thousands of days

It is born in the hearts
Single voice, from where it starts
Sacrifice of days and blood
To turns slogans into flood

Some lives to see
Some dies before, with the hope
Revolution test the emotions
Revolution teaches patience

Pain and passion, love and hate
It gives life to the dead words
Martyrs and tears, beheld in souls
It destroys, it creates

Evil falls, good wins
It rules over the millions of hearts
Revolution takes the birth
Amongst the men of truth
The pages bear witness
Revolution creates greatness and greats

Poem without A Poet

O poet!
You are known to play with the words
But, I am not the one
I write them as they are
I write tears as tears
I write pain as pain
I write them as they are

O poet!
Could you play with my words
And change their meaning
So that,
What I always saw in my Valley
Would remain hidden in my lines
Making them also a poem
But not written by a poet