Curbing its flock
Climbing your first hill.
And the same went abortive.
Thorns , stone’s and the grass
Marks embedded forever.
Dog’s barked at me
People yelled at me
Birds creeping with me
Trees shredding with me
Aspirations i left on the hill
Desires i left on the hill
I built a black temple out there.
I merged blip as a fate out there.
Kabba, is sacred , Zum Zum is sacred.
Enveloped with black, laid with gold.
His beloved lived there, made it Qibla.
His beloved being praised, named it Quran.
I was living it through a sacred Mountain of Zanskar and Karakoram.
I was roaming into the market’s of Gaw kadal, Habba kadal and Amira kadal.
I was listening to Nusrat Sa’ab on the banks of Dal lake in a Shikara.
I was witnessing her eyes, her lips, her hair locks, her fingers, her divinity.
I was in her colour, with dust of her foot on my face.
I was a transition, of me in me , her absence was scary.
Wioletta, Kashmir has got it’s red Apples and the Apricots.
The khatamband, Dargah, khanyar, Shahtoos, and the Dal Lake.
“She buried me in Dal lake”
01’June’21. Jammu . 2:00 AM