A kashmiri boy

there’s a kashmiri boy
in the meadow,
kissing ferns and
flowers and walking down
amid the rocks
with his bare feet
to the melancholic
Drung of Tangmarg.

and knitting words
with his bleeding hands,
of scalding tales
of kashmiris in kashmir
and looking at the bloody
cimmerian shades of sky
closing its lid –
for a desolate one.

he harbours his heart
on pure love, he simply
admires swamps
and kisses ferns,
tickles cats and dogs
and has even filled
a sick eagle with love
and a sky full of dreams.

Sanna Wren

( Poem about Tabish Rafiq Mir )

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