The Kite Flying

Kashmir
the mountains 
stagger under your 
breath, heaviness 
pounds, and the heart 
barren, enemies infiltrate 
scattering ashes.
The number of deaths 
lose count among 
schools burnt —
what will they learn?
Mannequins in 
closed rooms discuss 
the future, a wild catcall in the dark.
Come, be the beautiful valley 
you are, interspersed with ravines
and mountains scaling almighty 
heights. Blinded, we cough 
out wrath, as bullets pierce 
your heart. We cannot:
We cannot hum tunes, 
cannot hear the beating of drums.
Perhaps animals are slaughtered.
Perhaps not.
Perhaps children are still playing 
waiting for sun set 
and dusk to enter 
pallid horizons.
See the kite flying
See the kite flying 
arching across captive mountains.