A Valley Drenched in Bullets

My valley has been drenched in bullets,
And instead of snow,
Blood accentuates its mountain peaks,
This place that I once called home doesn’t feel like one
A cowardice called terrorism has taken over this heaven,
Guns and explosives have befriended my people,
Stones are played with like toys,
And lives have been tossed in the air like grenades.

Cries, some heard, some
Reverberate in the walls of the devastated homes here,
Innocent souls have been laid bare with hatred,
Innumerable soldiers have dedicated their lives for its
And have left behind uncountable tears in their families’
Reminding me again,
My valley isn’t mine anymore.

The Dal lake has frozen with
fear of never finding its adobe as heavenly as before,
The Chinar trees long to bear the fruits of love and
The once famous apples have become rotten with
The saffron that fragranced its land has lost its essence.

My valley has been drenched
in bullets,
And the scars it has left can never recover,
Though wars have been fought in retaliation,
Those causing this bloodshed have been dealt with in
the same way,
The hope for a better life hasn’t seen its first ray of
This hope,
Is still hidden behind those clouds of darkness,
And I am waiting for the sun to shine its brightest,
And take me back to the days,
I could proudly call my valley, my own,
So that…. I can proudly call my Jammu and Kashmir, my

Muskan Singla