Snowy hills, posh green,
Cashmere, it is.
Paradise we call it!
Ah! How can they not see?
What it heralds in its heart
Bullets tearing it apart,
Pepper chokes in its lungs.
There is a blood line that froze,
Slitting, Killing & what not?
Disappeared & Disappearing.
Tufail, wamick, Sameer, Burhan
Zubair, Inayat, Zahid, Bilal
Adil, Imtiyaz, Arif, Aaqib…
And many more.
Leaving behind wailing
Half Mothers & Half Windows.
Even our snowmen have
blots of blood to show.
Evening air smells of rust,
Fill this hookah this night
Till I burn to death once more.
Like Parwana strumming
Not afraid of flame.
But do you know?
The saffron grows
A little less.
Tell them;
Paradise has turned sour.

Khawaja Musadiq For Beyond Sanity Publishing

  1. Khawaja Musadiq says:

    Thank you Ma’am. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s