Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
O Kashmir, flower rooted deep within the soul,
Watered with sorrow, yet rising whole.
Since darkness stole your silent grace,
Your weeping trees still stand in place.
Your tears have sung across the lands,
A lullaby from trembling hands.
You never betrayed your sacred ground,
Your burning truth in chains is found.
They caged your sons, but could not hide
The fire in your wounded pride.
Yasin roars from prison walls,
His silence louder than their calls.
Your petals bloom through every pain,
Unbowed beneath the coldest rain.
In every heart your name remains,
A wound, a vow that still sustains.
