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©