By Waqas Khan
Let women and candles cry full tonight
For Kunan is left in its darkest sight
A burn such is sensed by their woeful hearts
Which no snow breeze can bring respite
For humans who cart the onus of bond
Agony is vivid of that February night
When the dusk had left reverie in eyes
And dawn did break with soul blight
Eyes trickle pain and lips shiver in fear
When they knit their stories for earnest ear
I see through pearls of their sunken eyes
A haunting tale: of dark; of miseries; of hues and cries;
When snakes crawled in a still hamlet
With their vicious aims and fangs bite
They dumbed all men, benumbed their women
For gashing their clothes and bashing their pride
Three pigeons of a nest standing in a row
Were hurt by a black harsh hunter’s bow
They cooed, they whined, they groaned in pain
When he ripped their feathers and blackened their glow
Who once were queens of a bright sky
Are a hapless covey now weary to fly
Pour mercy on them, Oh Heavenly Might!
For these caged birds ask freedom and flight.
(The poet is a Srinagar-based journalism graduate.)
