In the barren of winters,
A fire of our splinters.
Kneading the memories,
Our bodies and stories,
From sweats of our bosom
We baked a yellow sun!
I want to pin this now
In the “middle-east” skies—
Where the moons are lost
In the rubble of cries,
Where the trees have died
From running to the border,
Where the seas have washed
The salts of gunpowder,
Where the dreams have lost
The magic touch of flight,
Where the dawns have asked
How to embrace light?
Will you help me pin it?
Amidst prayers, knit it?
The ferns of our love
With a leaf and a dove;
On the evil-guarded gate
In the “iron-dome” of hate
On the barrel of the gun,
Our oven-cooked sun?
Sahil Yadav is a public policy professional during the day and an aspiring poet and translator at night.