The Valley’s Veins

The Valley's Veins Where mountains weep a silent tear, And Chinar leaves turn crimson near, A whisper rises, soft and low, Of stories that the valleys know. Of voices hushed, and spirits bound, On hallowed, ancient, sacred ground, They rise, not fueled by hate's dark flame, But justice, whispered in each name. The chains that bind, they yearn to break, For futures that their children make, Not shadowed by the past's despair, But bathed in freedom's golden air. From Srinagar's heart to Gulmarg's grace, A yearning burns in every face, For peace that blooms, and truth that sings, And hope on fragile, hopeful wings. They seek no war, no violent fight, But dignity, and what is right, Their voices echo, clear and strong, A symphony against the wrong. Though trials come, and shadows fall, Their spirit answers freedom's call, With patient strength, and hearts so bold, A story waiting to unfold. Sehrab Sathoo