My Pages are Inked Red

By Imtiyaz Pandow

Reeling

Under the darkness

Of this ruthless occupation

I am Kashmir

Striving to see the dawn of life

Amid

The hopes

Entangled in concertina wires.

I am like a pet parrot

Caged in my castle

Compelled to praise

My capturer.

I am the dweller

Of a new era

Pushed towards the stone age

I am Kashmir

My identity is rage.

I am a book, unread yet

My pages are inked red

I am black, I am dead

I am a deaf, I am yed.

My blank pages

Speak volumes

Of my past, present and future

I am a diary

Not maintained yet

I wonder, still why?

My pages are inked red.

I am a Magazine

A newspaper and a journal

Serving the haunting tales

My stories are unusual

Be it headlines or masthead

My pages are inked red.

I am a canvas

Sketched with pieces of art

Letting the artist’s brush vent

My pages are inked red.

First published in Indian Periodical, received from poet to publish on ILA blog

Image of Poet, Imtiyaz Pandow, Web Content Editor of ILA Magazine.