Poem by Linda B. Scanlan

Blizzard of Bullets

Snow falls
Huge flakes
Swirl in brisk wind
Peaceful in Kashmir

Then
Blasts
Groans
Fighting
Moans
Quiet again
Blood drenched snow
Horrific reminder
Hatred takes no vacation
Even in a storm

Screams
Shouts
Grief
In two days time 48 hours
Six resistance fighters felled
The dead
So young
Promising future
Robbed of breath

How many more will die today
The mourning time never ceases
Sun rises
Soon the moon
Named blood
So apt
Hearts broken
Breath short
Hatred growing

And yet –

The snow falls in the valley of Kashmir…

Linda B. Scanlan, 2019©