Dear Repressed Kashmir

By Vartika Barnawa

I don't remember the day, I last saw you

But I do remember the shared sights.

You see, I remember your radiant face,

The calm, the poise and all things right

When you blossomed and dressed in white,

Also when you brimmed in green

Starry skies with loud yet dulcet waterfalls

Bewitching my heart by all means

They say you feel no more like yourself

Yet mostly, still look the same

They say your tale has muffled down

In the noise, oh, what a shame!

I remember spending noon in your lap

And sleeping under the walnut tree

I remember the fresh figs you gave

And the mornings filled with gentle breeze

My memories, all fresh, close to my heart

Each depicting the essence of your beauty

How sweet was my childhood spent with you!

But now, your cloudy sky carries air so sooty

They say your valleys are filled with silence

But I remember your echoes, not this burn.

They say you seem to be okay now

But are you? After all that is done?

You never cared much about the division,

The religion, the castes; all man made things

But the stones picked to throw and retaliation,

One after another, that ruined your springs

I remember your melodious voice like birds

Sun kissed dawns, and mountains glowing

I picture your eyes still deep-set blue, so,

This moment, shun away your sufferings

I write to you to embrace you, so let this

Jog your memory; let it recall your true power

Consider in my heart your valleys will echo and

Forever love will flow, in your Lake of Flowers.

By Vartika Barnawa