top of page

"The Bleeding, Burning & Bruised Kashmir"

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
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.

"The Bleeding, Burning & Bruised Kashmir"
bottom of page