It's snowing in Kashmir
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| | It’s snowing in your homeland. The branches white with their white leaves the ground beneath in the photos all white. I was there once in your homeland It was the year of Chillai Kalan and I loved your people Your poetic names for Winters harsh Warm hearts beating next to the Kangris inside the Pherans that cover a lifetime of stories. I waited for Sheen the word that melts in the mouth in the ears Your word for Snow. While you grew up with the Mountain I grew up with the River when Snow was Russian Folk Tales Hardbound from the Book-Fair Poor Lucy Gray in the Ballads Ebenezer Scrooge’s psychosis in the Christmas Carol, it was Ted Hughes and Pamuk. But it was never on my palm or at the tip of my lashes Always loved and never met Me and Snow. Will it be now Will it be ever? That moment when nothing is remembered, all is forgotten the pain, the horror, the conflict? Will there be enough white to cover every other colour? Will I see you Will I see Sheen Will it be forever? | |
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