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.