azaadi

grúhún (eclipse) in the sky 

nunchai salted with the tears of your grandmother,

given its pink hue with the blood of martyrs

the blood of martyrs, matching the red pherans

one dead. two dead. three dead. four. 

the sun has disappeared

zain ul-abdin sheds tears for his people beyond the grave

saraswati and shiva watch with downturned eyes

god has left

your neighbours have too

“inquilab zindabad!”  you shout from the rooftops

“long live the revolution!”

nobody can hear you because you too, have left

and your people are gone

in kashmir remains only the insurgents

bloody

broken

beaten

fists raised

forever chanting,

azaadi.

 

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Featured Image by Steve McCurry