war only ends in tragedy. never peace.
if there is heaven on earth it is here. it is here. it is here.
phones will ring all across the country today. as if a reverberation of panic, or desperation
a mom will call her child to ask- are you okay? you don't have to talk if you can't, just sigh, so that in your breath i can find mine.
a friend will call another, say nothing, just let the silence hang like apples in a faraway orchard, like snow in the morning mountains, like shikaras in the melting waters of dal lake.
it is here. it is here. it is here.
the official casualty list will contain only 27 names. it won't account for-
the vermillion of a newly wed wife's forehead.
the smile of a mother's face.
the sanity of a collective nation.
the peace that years of struggle had built.
any hope of coexistence. the innocence of children who will grow up on nothing more than scraps of history and morsels of hatred.
it is here. it is here. it is here.
the mindless rampage of militants, vying for blood and chaos, killing for a news headline
and a cause they understand nothing of.
the tragedy of every individual who lost their lives, their loved ones, their livelihood.
the blame among politicians that'll keep changing hands.
and in the background, a land that everyone wanted yet no one was ready to care for.
a land where snow melts into blood and humanity melts into every god's worst nightmare.
a land that is also a reminder:
if god can become a reason for slaughter, what is heaven then, if not a slaughterhouse?
