"The Bleeding, Burning & Bruised Kashmir"

Updated: Apr 23



By: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo Rice from a holy grain A tiny droplet of merciless rain Anatomy full of pain Terrifying armament facing this shame

Buried framework Scorching sun Ruthless nights Dead sights Bloodlines Death of peace, I witnessed on this holy night.


My death right across my eye May be measured casually or tonight. Ain't a job schedule of the dreams But might be the last one.

Unsure if it's worthy tonight Joyful, favourable, advantageous, thoughtful Dream of my words Words of my dreams There are no longer stairs to walk down They are burnt forever Ain't no point of going down I'm already beneath Deep, very deep

Underneath I walked down still No, we don't have funerals That's consistent A day with you, Another without. Yes, that's my mum Ain't no doubts, because Gunshots have always been loud. I hope my dad's alive Wait, am I still alive Is that hell life Or life after death Or both at once I have been broken; I have been apart, I have been dead, I have been hell, I have been all at once, through A Mercenaria All because I been a great, Great citizen of Kashmir. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo From Kishtwar District of Chenab Valley, Jammu/Kashmir




Poet's Bio: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo is a student from the Kishtwar District of Chenab Valley, in Jammu/Kashmir. She is an avid and enthusiastic writer, penning both poetry and fiction. Her poetry covers a broad range of ideas, thoughts and philosophies. Currently, she is working as a freelance writer and columnist.

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