In Gulmit, Remains My Soul


As they remain hostage
to their twisted fates,
the old clamour
in the gardens of its fragrance
Who I am, who am I?
The old echoes
follow me to the mountains,
buried there
in its rivers and skies
alive the moments
of travel and its sojourn
in Gulmit remains, my soul,
the old haunting voices
” you never came back”
and the world beyond
in its mayhem and greed
as I cough my head out
the remedy far away
in its air and in its presence,
Clipped wings and tainted
the old composition
only the desert and its oasis
the only companions
as I travel back to the rivers
with moon and its gaze
the caravans and its music
back to Gulmit, back to its echoes…



3 thoughts on “In Gulmit, Remains My Soul

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