The following poem was written 25 years after the Gawkadal Massacre, on the same day, in an attempt to remember and never forget.
Bullets on a bridge,
Blood drips even from the triggers,
The Country Without a Post Office,
Has lost its address.
This is not Kashmir,
This is hell by another name.
Many years later, darkness covers it all.
They’ve cut out a piece of your heart,
And made it a wound called memory.
But you must fight to remember,
And fight never to forget.
You must bear witness,
You who can,
Must live forth with hope.
The birds will sing again,
And tell you their names one by one.
Silence will speak,
And ask you to listen.