“Where art thou?” Kashmir needs a Shahid tonight
“O, please free her with poesy,” pleads a Shahid tonight
A red path marks the entrance to my home
“Come on in, it’s okay,” greets a Shahid tonight
There will be silent-shouting words, echoes of words
Yet only one bullet makes a Shahid into a shaheed tonight
It’s time to give a tongue of fire to shackles
All mother’s breastfeed a Shahid tonight
Where do these loud, lurid words come from, Ruhan,
Does the spirit of an Agha lead a Shahid tonight?
For Agha Shahid Ali on his birthday, posthumously.