Pray for Kashmir The Bleeding Eden
Eden is what you call a garden of flowing rivers and soaring spirits.
Eden is what Kashmir was if we went back several years, months, and minutes.
For, alas, this land no longer remains that of glorious sights and thriving people.
But a graveyard of broken dreams, stolen lives, and hope, so feeble.
And we sing of her ruins and magnificent past.
But what of her people with their pain so vast?
Those who stare with cold determination at their executioners’ faces.
Those who slaved for 73 years in their freedom race.
Those who fear not the bullet nor death,
but a fight not fought ‘til one’s dying breath.
Why does the world play deaf and lie?
They say: “The rivers are flowing, the birds they fly, the people no longer do they cry!”
But what of the rivers that flow with blood, the birds with broken wings, and the tears which just don’t seem to dry?
This cluster of lies and endless crime.
Do tell, when did the world go so awry?
Those innocent children, now buried down under,
what were their dreams? I truly do wonder.
“Kashmir was heaven on Earth,” they say.
And it could be if they didn’t let those people’s voices ricochet.
I stand with Kashmir with my shoulders as support.
But what will my words do when the world won’t?
Pray for Kashmir, the bleeding Eden.
Pray for the prisoner who wishes he was a freedman