A rusty padlock dangles with hope
staring at footprints that may retrace
A creaking window without a view awaits
an oarless boat on Jhelum
A gusty wind moans in deserted bylanes
amidst morbid shadows in anticipation of the unspoken
waits the trial of threshold hears the mute toll of temple bells
and the frozen silence of sinners
Crumpled Chinar leaves
remain sole witness to betrayal
all other evidence lies in a morgue
dead, still, lifeless, stoic
Memento for the exiled sits as a date on the calendar
the clock ticks the music away and the hundred stringed Santoor
breaks its chains and cuffs defying the erasure of bygone
composing the lyrics of truth like ‘Lalla’s’ muse
An empty frame on the wall cannot adorn the seasons that befell our tribe
25 years is no mere number on a board game
it’s the age of unanswered questions
not measured in length of time but timeless loss
____________________________________________________
Written on 25 years of exile.
© Jheelaf Parimu
January 19, 2015
