1 min read

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.

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