Solemn Signature of Death by Ananya S Guha

I am not a silent poet

A journalist reports
we kill, in this country
of hills, mountains and
plains. In this country
barricaded by snow peaks
walls, land which know no
country, only people
We have forfeited songs
of  freedom, slung over
shoulders of enslaved race
we talk peace, not war
but war is in raging footpaths
we wage it against relenting writers
to a photo finish.
In Kashmir even as snow capped mountains
are hidden by rising sun
the blood spots tarnish a nation
now, as refugees come to our embattled
country, we say no to high raised peaks
simmering with discontent.
The journalist was blasted seven times
till her brains outwitted her body.
Solemn signature of death.

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