A Breath in Kashmir


I can taste the memories in the

air today, young boys pestering their fathers to

build tree houses on

old pine trees, trees that

tower far, far above the

white velveteen clouds that stretch through the

horizon, shielding my eyes from

what must be shielded.


I can smell the blood interlaced in the

cold fog that leaves my chest, leaving me

panting, restless, uneasy

my fingertips glide across

the ice as I collapse in a

forgotten breath, my body shrivels up in

a curl of excruciating pain, pain that

soon freezes over, leaving nothing but

snow angels looking over the pine trees,

pristine lakes, and heavenly skies.