Crowning his Friday
After the disastrous snow
Blood-stained his threshing lines
Life’s receding billow
Will leave him for the eternal calm
He is yet to know.
Out from his threads of thoughts
there was a window
time preserved there, dreams whispered there
everything soaked in mourning there
every thought of freedom executed there.
Chants of hope tinkling,
not knowing about his breathing last.
His sighs cried for solitude
his resistance frightened the enemy
his unknown sobbing died before its rise.
He cried when the guards laughed
Only eternity witnessed him
His heart bled for freedom
and eyes turned red in waiting
He pleads for the possibility,
But destiny paralyzed, drenched in irony.
With a voice seeking God,
before being raised was silenced.
He asked them a slew of queries.
but they offered him to burn instead.
It was the only thing they knew.
He told them how freedom was
never gifted by Oppressors.
“The demand of Freedom is demanding Freedom”
And didn’t then the bullets pierce,
his weeping wailing heart?
his freedom seeking heart?
They killed him for his kindness
In their madness, in their blindness
Warm blood lieth on the freezing snow,
As if the snow was pleading too
for freedom to be free.
When he was killed, the cold did wander
Losing the battle of coldness harsh,
to the Oppressor, That one murderer.
Hesitant, but he did embrace
a hundred punishments for one passion
As a veiled good luck charm.
He shed tears for his mates
in dark times of bright days.
He cried for the possibility of “Freedom and Me”
In dignity he died though
He lived for the freedom of fidelity.
He died less than once then
He lived that moment more than once.
The darkest hour read his agony,
embraced his pain,
and conversed for all
Surfaced from the good soft earth
his pre-decorated grave of glee!
narrating from the colorless clouds
Of untold secrets – a “Freedom story”
One unknown voice melted his heart.
He left us, left us for another [He]
on another season of absent path.
And they killed another one
who ascended against all the odds,
He isn’t at all our first hero!
His soul ended somewhere near
with a reddened chest
and his burn heart,
He spoke the unknown grammar
till the end of time
till the end of journey.
And they killed another one !
[I dedicate this poem to the youth martyred by the Indian forces in Kashmir on 14 March 2014. May Allah rest Shaheed Farhat’s soul in peace and offer him a place in heaven. Ameen.]