Arindam Banerjee | Kashmir

huts in isolation

smokeless chimneys

 

a girl

in burqa holding

a meadow clover

motionless

near the cemetery gate

 

an old shepherd

benumbed by past watching

a tank stuck in a rut

he has cataracts

 

infantry troopers

marching past the milk bathed

cedar woods petrified

in the silence of the earth

 

underneath the blemishes of

an aged canopy is

another heaven

exalted by exuberance

 

 

here

there are secrets in the dark

here

death is frolicking in the snow

 

and only a quarter of the story is ever told/known

lord help us withstand these political jests

 

we say it’s ours

they say it’s theirs

isn’t it yours?

 

Arindam Banerjee

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