Ashpot

Why were they made the victim,
as they were my only kin.
Why was I only spared,
why weren’t bullets on me sprayed.
In my mind are fresh their thoughts,
and their ashes are fresh in this pot.
Left with only this to stare,
this pot full of ashes.
Everything now beyond my care,
to me nothing can possibly scare.
Now my body feels almost dead,
those gross scenes don’t seem to fade.
In my mind their yelps are resonating,
their smiling faces make me feel guilty.
Now I am left with no one to love,
no one to laugh.
No one to cry with,
but only this thing.
Ashpot

My Comment:
This poem is a narration of
what must be going on in a Kashmiri boy's mind,
after his kin were killed in a terrorist attack on his house.