Poetry and photographs for Kashmir: Is this or is this the dream I came home to?

 

1
uncaged 
this long ailing night 
left to die 
like an aging raven
unused
to flying failing 
its wings
mortified
this cagelessness 
humiliating

2
smothered 
flame of candle 
crushed 
between thumb 
and forefinger
charred night

3
burst into flame 
solitary flower immolate 
your petals detonating 
like suicide vests 
making pale 
the glitter 
of the stars the sky 
shredded raining fire 
scorching an earth 
already weary 
of its own blood
take it back 
the night

4
shatter stillness
the night 
on crutches
the sun 
shrouded
in a cloak of night
refusing 
point blank
to rise

6
bird stripped
of sight 
seeking
refuge 
in a sky 
full 
of bullet wounds

7
burnt 
stumps
gather 
the ashes scatter 
the ashes
into the wind

8
breaking 
the silence
death’s soft whisper

9
ash coloured
the cobblestones

10
above my head 
smoke from 
a distant dream
a sky
in flames

11
voiceless scream 
as leaves drop 
from trees
one
by one

12
stitched from clouds 
soaked 
in red 
the sky 
reluctant shroud

13
smeared grey 
across the sky 
its ash visage 
darkened
by the death 
of the sun

14
is this 
or is this
the dream 
I came home to?

dogs sniffing blood 
on chinar leaves

15
watermelon heads
explode
every single day

16
elsewhere 
in tiny heaps 
discarded 
ash
shrouds 
in mourning

17
crumpled 
sheet of light 
in a room made vacant 
made lonely made fiction 
by what else 
death 
dappled shadow 
white black white white 
blurry motion windswept 
ricochet across room 
slamming headfirst 
into the wall 
also white 
crumpling 
into a shivering 
daze on spinning floor 
with a bang and 
a crash 
breath panting 
for breath breathlessly 
swallowing 
gasping air gasping 
for breath out of breath 
eyes wide rolling over and 
over before closing shutting 
down clanging 
like shutters ungreased 
metal rusted with years 
the light no longer white yellow 
age yellow with age 
hinges squeaking 
for oil remembering 
gaze fixed 
on unseen further point 
in the fog dense 
remember leaves 
losing sheen 
at the moment of their passing 
falling falling sheet floating 
down 
light as light weightless 
almost 
crumpled shadow of light 
in room emptied
of thought
all of it

18
in a fragile landscape
ash coloured
leaves
seeking refuge
from the fire

19
shiver death
in the cold
cold 
light of the sun

20
streets 
full of rage
stones 
grappling with fists 
willing 
to bleed

21
their eyes shut tight 
dead men learning 
to dream

22
the children cycle madly 
homewards
under a sky hurling
hailstones

23
charred
flame 
of the candle
a dream in ashes

24
mirror 
vast and silent 
the oars precise 
slice 
its stillness
a different rhythm
that of gunfire 
intermittent 
echoes 
ringing 
ringing 
in ears 
made deaf 
by a silence 
intimate 
with roadside graves

25
burnt 
blackened forever 
the night

26
all night long
the smell 
of tyres
burning

27
forest 
full of tree trunks 
gutted

28
at sunrise 
the women 
hurrying
to bury the night

29
stab each hand
one by one

smash the clocks
underfoot
one by
one

30
across 
a landscape of green 
the fresh 
fresh smell 
of blood 
spilling

31
crushed underfoot 
leaves 
daring to breathe

32
from the corner of my eye 
a blur of grey

leaking fugitive

33
stripped 
made naked 
the bitterness 
of shadows

34
scattered 
beneath the stones 
reams 
and reams 
of poetry

35
they bury shadows
here
every night
under a moon
known for its brazenness

36
widowed sky 
lamenting 
its own drowning

37
giant sieve 
soaked 
in its own blood
the sky 
riddled

38
the keening of widows 
muffled by the shadows

39
on some days
on most days
all that remains
is for the night to end

40
yesterday’s words 
like stale bread 
posing as poetry

41
the blood-coloured flowers 
continue 
to bloom

42
the women silent
stones
watching refusing
to shroud their heads
shroud
their heads

43
a sky 
unable 
to shrug off 
its greyness

44
there where 
the shadows 
huddle
in quiet whispers
the restlessness of 
trees

45
elsewhere 
the sound
of bare feet
running

46
anointed in their own blood
the shadows refusing
to weep

47
slice the vein
and let the poem bleed
all over the white
all over

48
bloodied fists 
smash the night

49
cold wet street
stones 
strewn under 
a flickering lamplight
like freshly plucked flowers

50
low rumble
deep tumbril 
from well of throat
the cry rising 
thick like smoke 
choking 
on its own fire 
burn 
burn the devastated land 
strewn with stumps 
charred 
as mighty trees
one by one by 
one fall prey 
to what? 
what? was it 
that caused this
blindness
blind blind 
rage blinded 
thought 
suspended 
impossible then 
to extinguish 
flames 
sparked by
shadows 
full 
of faces trapped 
in rooms full 
of shadows 
staring staring 
blankly 
at reflections 
of flames 
ricocheting off the walls
before collapsing 
into a heap 
of ash rotten 
rotting from within 
their hearts 
so full 
so full of anger
white 
drained of blood 
the landscape 
waiting for winter 
and snow

51
rage 
into the night 
solitary shadow
hide 
hide your shame

52
strangling silence
the night 
sandpapers 
its leaves 
singing hoarse 
its songs out of tune 
broken voiced 
wrangling
like bent reeds underwater
snarled in discord
the distant sighing 
of the flute wind 
whispering rustling 
in harmony
faint
soft
shrill piercing 
the sound of a car horn
persistent
loud lament
strangling
silence

53
Assisted by hands gripped
firmly around its neck. Pushing 
down. Splashing wildly.
The darkness
drowned
once and for all
into the pool of light.

Poems by Naveen Kishore, photographs by Amit Mehra.

Courtesy: Scroll.in