On her frail shoulders, the threads of Pashmina talk. Of a valley, of heaven, of a moonlit night. Demure, she froze amidst the discordant noise, Charred bodies around her, her flesh and blood died. On moonlit nights, hence she walks barefoot on the snow, Suffering within and out, I can listen, what her silence speaks out loud. Deranged, Demented, She drags her body around, Unaware, Listless, what she has lost can never be found. I call her, whenever she passes by me, I have been piling up sorrows as debris. Come! My child Let me hear your pain, Let me soothe your wounds, Let me jostle your soul, So you shed a tear. I know your pain, I have done all this myself, And I have been there. This poem narrates the sufferings of women who lost their families in Kashmir Valley. *Disclaimer - Title is inspired by Sonnet 30 of Shakespeare.
It’s all about creating magic in words!

Words make lot of difference!
ReplyDeleteTrue that!
DeleteI used to think that it's a blessing, the fact that we as humans, can speak.
ReplyDeleteThen I realized I was living a myth.
Well said!
DeleteWords are a double edged sword!
ReplyDeleteTrue that!
Deletebeautifully drawn....the storm of emotions....
ReplyDeleteThanks Sunaina.
DeleteHow is the weather now? :-)
ReplyDeleteHehehe! I hope better. :)
DeleteHaven't we all suffered thus? Verbal calamity -- I love the play of words here.
ReplyDeleteThanks Rachna.
DeleteWords are like a sharp edged sword sometime .
ReplyDeleteTrue that!
DeleteSimply wow!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sir.
DeleteSo edgily penned. :)
ReplyDeleteGood one.
ReplyDeleteIt's so beautiful, Saru! I love these Words series! Thank for activating the comments option! :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for a warm comment. :)
DeleteVery true and wonderful thought process.
ReplyDelete:-)
Thanks Swati
DeleteYou've expressed it so perfectly :)
ReplyDeleteCan visualize the verbal assault. Perfect!
ReplyDeleteThanks!
Delete