Death is depressed in her lanes,
Alone she grieves over the unknown graves.
She wails as the unshrouded corpse yearns for a goodbye.
“My mother awaits me” he cries!
The half-cooked dish still brews in the pot,
Still, it waits to be served.
They have not heard the news yet!
This is his address
Let it be known!
Death is scared to walk through her familiar alleys
Encounters scare her!
Terrified of her next visitor
Will it be the father or the child?
She is horrified by the look
The innocence of the bloodshot eyes
How long will she suffer?
Can she bear to see it again?
Can she endure the cries?
As she left a silent funeral
Another shot was fired!
Whose voice is it this time?
Will it be the widow, the childless mother, or the unwed bride?
My name is Maliha, a sophomore from Indian-occupied Kashmir. This poem is written within the context of Kashmir and its occupation by India. It is about the forced disappearances and killings of thousands of Kashmiris by the Indian army, and the unmarked graves of thousands of Kashmiris who disappeared--never to be found again.
The views expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the Georgetown Gazette, the School of Foreign Service, or Georgetown University.