how did you survive
when they killed the number five,
and tossed your Father in a cell?
because in Kashmir there is a riot
when Indian troops demand a total quiet
from early dawn until an indefinite tomorrow
like a conquering Spanish Pizarro
off the foggy coast of wild Peru.
what will you do?
a sharp-eared owl heard the softest drums
of an approaching storm:
she saw the clever swarm
of power-hungry mouths
eating the primordial forest nude and bare,
leaving
nothing but thin air:
her tongue could taste the odor
of a menacing nightmare
softly creeping
into bedrooms where children were safely sleeping,
dreaming of their grand empires
of laughing moons and shooting stars and youthful merriment.
their closed eyes and gentle faces,
wrapped in imaginary blankets of loves' good graces,
rest in peace.
what will they become?
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