To seek you is an eternal wait
As drawing streams from dreary desert
Like dredging humanity from dried seabed
Of dead consciences, reeking of death.
To find you, is as empty;
As promises you make in a hollow space
That lost your presence long back.
From gleam of Nut-brown eyes
To shimmering Dal lake
From scented whiff of kahwas ,
To rows of wooden shikaaras,
From young firans to lanky achkans
Who sought a streak of bright Sun;
To blind eyes and crevices of wombs
Which crack with every sound of gun,
Not once, you winced or shrieked aloud
At wailing mothers, mourning on dead
And, gaunt faces of senile fathers;
Whose lives are dim lit
Plummeting in receding rays of sunset.
You lit up the hopeless hopes
Of half-widows and half-mothers
Who live one moment after other
In quest of their spouses and sons.
You seem to fancy the angst of youths
Who try to grab your tentacle hooks
In unidentified cesspools of blood
Agonized Kashmiriyat knows you though;
You march in a Caravan of diplomats
Whose words are sugary entanglements
That bind your fleeting silhouette
To elude in a blink of a swindler’s eye.