(21/06/1992 / Kashmir)

For His Mother

September morning with its secrets
Is in progress, so am I
Trying to find the new hope
The crops, and the trees
Favorite walnuts, yellow fields and same winds
As if autumn winds
Unquiet and unseen blows for cause and change
Into the blue, into the green, into the vale
But skies and souls weep, break and fall
Men and women, women and men

Red are buds with your fragrance,
This September
Where are the farmers?
I am trying to find the being
Because being is the being of beings and
To be is to be related
Sigh that speak of love
Of beauty, Of sweetness, Of peace and pattern
Where are the busy bees?
This September
The breeze not so very calm and cool and close

Dreams as well as dove are gone
And so is saddened woman's son
If to be is to be related
What makes it graveyards fill?
If to be is to be related, then
Man has no power to kill
Because he is not All-powerful,
Eternal, unlimited, mighty at all,
As we all come from beings
What we encounter are all beings

A dark night fall on my face
September O September wait a while
Let the leaves catch the breath
Let the winds slow down
Cry not, sisters and mothers
For I will there stand for you
For hope, hope of tomorrow
And if, this is a crime
I will commit it again and again
And if, I got a bullet in my chest
Mother, to be is to be related
Ashes with ashes, dust with dust

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Comments (1)

The mother and child, the bond that impossibly to break..as if to cut water into two parts..it kills life, never kill the nature...When the world broken by the war, armies and people are sacrificing their lives...but mothers are the most suffering, to lost...if we return to the roots, all mothers wish the best for their children...to live well, respect her words and war wont be exist, because i am sure what mother of war only want them a better life, not another sacrifice