Poem by Linda B. Scanlan

From Kashmir today

My dear Linn –
I am dead…..

I write from Baramulla
Fighting escalated
Bullets flying
Many deceased
Martyred in the name of freedom

Celebrations erupt
In the country of the oppressor
Dancing in their streets
Ours flow with blood
Their news report terrorists tortured and slain
They are gleeful
Terrorists! – look in the mirror

College students
My mate with whom I took classes
Now dead
Buried without my respects
I feel pity
Armed soldiers stand guard
Roads cordoned with barbed wire
We are prisoners in our own home

They celebrate
Murder in cold blood

Linn – my friend
I am dead
Only worse
Waiting
Asking myself
Will I be next ………………..

Linda B. Scanlan, 2019©