I want to be the son of nature For deep wounds, not going back to my doctor. This doctor, putting the outside of my worldview. I have to respect him. I should run away of him and search for my soul. I want to rise up to the same tree, but for shadow like roots, put myself inside ground for steaming smell of soil around. Not working, fog in mountain with "Shimshal"* melody, not be a mixture of cloud. What's a profit of wind? If he's not boring, dance inside eyes. Don't put Leaves drunkenness on the path of rivers. But wind, is a traditional musical instrument God, playing our words and put it on a melody line. Wind born on a burp of air instead smell, he was busy with buzzing. He ran behind the soil, hanged himself with a claw: for the love of steam. Before we came, was busy pairing. He brought three girls into the world: snow, hail and rain. Rain, so softly umbrellaed: Stone liked to melt underneath it. Until the human came to the world: Learn from it and avoid cruelty. When he saw the hail, He's more far away from the soul. But snow, with all this softness He can't calm down our stupidity. I want to be the son of nature. When I was blind, put a drop of rain inside my eyes. When I was injured, wrap my wounds with leaves. When my hand is broken, grafting a stick of a tree from me, so that my writing can be re-greening. When my hair is falling, plant a mint on my head, so that instead of sweat, it will spread, smell good. When my hearing deafens, take me to the sea, put two seashells for me, and at least, it will move waves to me. So that I will not be the son of nature, when the basil goes back to the mint tribe. Mentha pulegium, who anyone doesn't eat freshly, when he gets old, his height will rise as old man, drying same old "Mentha pulegium." Come on, let's be in nature, spreading peace! © Written by Peshawa Kakayi Qaladze, Kurdistan Region of Iraq Translated to English by Dlovan Ali *Shimshal: A Kurdish cultural musical instrument. Type of a flute. BIO: Peshawa Kakayi, was born on April 19, 1984, in Qaladze, Kurdistan region of Iraq. He graduated from the Political Science Department of the University of Sulaimaniyah. He writes in many literary appendixes in Kurdistan. He has published eight books of poetry, written in Kurdish. * Residue of Breaths: Poetry Collection © 2008 * I am, I Guard Flowers, Poems © 2011 * Garden - Your Love Poetry © 2015 * From the House of Aunt Khunche, I Went to Saeed's Son-in-law (Open Text) © 2017 * American Letter with the Taste of Poetry (Poetry, Prose, Narration) © 2018 * Cosmology (Poetry) © 2019 * Rebuilding the Light on the Return of Zoroastrian i Ahmed Mala (Investigation) © 2020

Gently, the snow was falling and the village road frosted with sweet whiteness. The plum trees, the icicles were freezing. The spring water had become a garden of ice, the blue vase had been cracked. The white beard man, the snow landscape was catching his eye and he was singing a winter chant and the admirable snowman with his soft arms kept a fire burning and figs were boiling in a pot. The white smoke of the fireplaces was rising up from the madhouse's chimneys and the children had white dreams. Shivering sparrows in cold were cuddling together under the eaves the snowflakes like butterfly, were gently fluttering to the ground. © Diyar Latif Translator: Daliya Raouf Diyar Latif came to life in 1989. He is a poet, journalist, writer, Peshmerga, as well as an activist, and works in literary meetings. He is a resident at the Town of Kfri, in the Iraqi Kurdistan region. The works in each of the (Plastic Land) books are poems. He has published a literary research book titled, 'Title and Text.' His last published book in in partnership with a literary meeting titled, 'Modern Poetry and Some Margins.'

© Written by Imtiyaz Pandow Here I bring you A tale of my burning home from this dreary paradise where peace is no where in the whirling shades of this incompatibility. Being its dwellers means to fall prey to its expected uncertainties either become the victims or firsthand witnesses of these uncertainties. We are left in a despair only to scribble the epitaphs over the gravestones and sing the elegies to mourn in a grief of those falling flowers, Who in their tender age are being forced to leave for the heavenly abode Whose blood soaked bodies are tomorrow's witnesses of today's brutalities. Imtiyaz Pandow is from Budgam, Kashmir and is a postgraduate in Journalism and Mass Communication. He is a Web Content Editor on ILA Magazine. He has worked with several local and national media organizations. He is interested in poetry and fiction and his poetry has been featured by several outlets. The author can be contacted at: imtiyaz@ilamagazine.net

Here, we will feature two of his poems, mentions of his published books and a review of his poem, 'Everything Returns Back', written by ILA Founder, Annette Nasser and published in his English Poetry Anthology, 'Sillage.' LIVE IN THE MOMENT Living life of humans is a virtue that is to be earned, if we sideline our past and futuristic aspect is slightly turned. We can't at the same time, dwell in past, present and future. Our whole life however, is based on structure. Living in the moment is easier to say than to adopt in reality, however, its urgency is felt every time for our suitability. Too much of indulgence in thinking about past deeds, pulls us backward and hampers to meet our present needs. Past should not come on the way of present as obstacles, on the ashes of past should stand the present day miracles. Future is always uncertain like the Monsoon in Indian subcontinent, it always feeds us with new recipes of hopes and discontentment. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray .............................................. POURING OF RAIN Each time rain comes to rejuvenate me and drenches in ecstasy, Nostalgic feelings hover in my mind to generate fantasy; It makes me spellbound when I hear its rhythmic sound, Like an old wine, it intoxicates me stealing my ground. It's lovely, soothing like a devotional song that I always admire, Its pitter patter sound releases my captivated aspire; Kindles, ignites in me, long forgotten virgin fire, Scintillating, alluring, helps to come out from despair. It relieves me from all sorts of mundane tensions, Embedded feelings in me get wings to fly in unison, Chilling effects, I feel when cool breeze blows; Pangs of pain decimate; my innersole glows. My cosy wishes dance with rhythmic sound of rain, Like butterflies, they hover here and there to sustain. That earthy smell mesmerizes me and I become restless, Pouring rain droplets thrill me and kills my fatigue - the mess. Each time rain brings for me heavenly blessings, why I don't know. But I am sure the whole rainy season keeps my emotions in tow. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray 'SILLAGE' - Permeating Salubrious Odour Poetic Motifs by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray. Sillage can be found on Google Play and published by Sankalp Publications The author can be reached at: alokray1966@gmail.com An International Anthology of Poems: Trouvaille - A Medley of Poetic Beads.... Compiled and Edited by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray Review of Dr. Alok Kumar Ray's poem, 'Everything Returns Back' by Annette Nasser, Founder of ILA Magazine and ILA Magazine group, USA and published in the author's book, 'SILLAGE', pages 105-108, and can be viewed above, in the 'slideshow.' EVERYTHING RETURNS BACK Everything is reciprocal Be it relationship or fellowship, Sow the seed of love to reap crops of friendship. Harsh words pierce in the heart like a sharp knife, Occasional cool breeze in summer rejuvenates life. Life and let live others even if be in hardship, Newton's third law relies on this equity partnership. All of us are tied with the thread of humanity, Diversity among us is not a curse to maintain unity. We all are humans though are of myriad kinds, Disparities among us are natural That cannot block our strides. Variety is the essence of life That cannot be undermined, With ebullient emotions of fellow feelings We are entwined. Everything returns back whether good deeds or bad, Mitigating woes of others shields us against sad. Earth cherishes different Races, languages, faiths and cultures, It's like a garden where Flowers of different varieties dance in rapture. © Dr. Alok Kumar Ray Review of Dr. Kumar's Poem: The poet states, "everything is reciprocal whether relationship or friendship", and with this, should also be, cooperation and understanding in balance and awareness of values, morals, respect of other cultures, traditions, philosophies, professions, creativities and principles of growth, within this same process, applying to friendship. He writes with an open mind and heart, through words and actions, that we can overcome just about anything, with spiritual strength and conviction, with positive attitudes and with simple acts of kindness and generosity, by spreading and scattering seeds of love the world over, circulating for the purpose of growth, joining hands of different nations, dispersing and connecting, setting into motion, initiating trust, respect, faith, into something worthy of friendship. The more giving you are by sowing seeds of love, the greater the abundance in receiving, even in friendship. His insightful thoughts by loving others the way we would like to be loved, will also multiply too, in friendship. By sowing love in giving toward others, making the most of your relationship, by learning and giving as much as you can, you will also reap the crops of friendship. What you give out of the goodness of your heart, you will also reap in return. He writes that even in hardship, we must learn to live together in unity. We must be able to trust ourselves and believe in our capabilities and abilities as well as others. We, as individuals, should accept the way others live, breathe and behave, because everyone does things differently in their own way. We must strive to throw light upon existential ambiguities with more certainty and clarity to be accepting others in tolerance, to be open minded, to be respectful and nonjudgmental and to try and live in harmony with others. As the poet states, even in Newton's third law, relies on this 'equity of partnership', the third law states for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, ubiquitous in everyday life, whether in contact, interaction or actions, we are all connected through the threads of humanity, one common thread that unites us all, regardless of race, religion or culture. There will always be some groups in our society that will try to bring the world down by various cults and groups of hatred, cursing unity and humanity. Diversity is a positive influence, a wide range melange of people, regardless of differences and culture, benevolent of human kindness, passing down from generation to generation, in belief, language, values, encompassing multitudes of ethnicities and race, respect of heritage, through understanding varying prospective with room to learn from one another, whether through new experiences or ways of thinking, to a manifold of languages and traditions. The poet reminds us, 'we are all humans though of myriad kinds', countless entities, a League of Nations in grand multitude, the greatest natural influence, and as much as some groups may try to penetrate that decisive step aimed at progress, in the end, that same path we walk, we march in medley, for 'variety is the spice of life', with exuberant buoyancy and sentiment, of 'fellow feelings', interwoven together. The poet confirms in his own insightfulness, that karma returns whether good or bad, mitigating circumstances of others protects us from depression and sadness, we should feel so cherished and joyous, knowing that earth's different ethnicities, language and cultures, celebrate with intense expressions of elation and enthusiasm, much like a 'garden of different varieties and color' because at the end of the day, it is this multitude of culture, our way of living, our language, beliefs, our strength and empowerment in society, we are diversely united. It is a pleasure reviewing your poem, Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, as it will stick to me like glue and I will no doubt, go back and read it countless times, so expressive and so impressive, it truly touched my heart and soul. Annette Nasser Founder ILA Magazine USA ........................................ BIO: Dr. Alok Kumar Ray belongs to Kendrapara District of Odisha, India. He obtained his M.A., M. Phil and Ph.D degrees from Utkal University, Bhubaneswar, Odisha. He now works as a Senior Lecturer in Political Science in a Degree College affiliated to Utkal University and getting grants - in - aid Govt. from Department of Higher Education, Gov't of Odisha. He is a textbook writer and has authored books being taught in Universities within Odisha as well as Dibrugarh University, Assam in India. He has edited three books containing scholastic articles in Social Sciences. Dr. Alok Kumar Ray is a bilingual poet and writes in both Odia and English. His poems have been featured in a number of anthologies, magazines and newspapers across the globe. Poetry for Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, is a passion and he is deeply obsessed with this creative endeavor. He posts poems regularly to a number of online poetry groups and takes part in online poetry writing contests. Many times he has been adjudged as well as been awarded in poetry groups across various states and nations. Kabikanya Smruti Parishad, Talcher, Odisha had adjudicated Dr. Ray for the Kabikanya Ashes Award in 2019. In the year, 2020, LASOSYASYON LAR SAN FRONTYER, an International literary and art society, recognized by the Gov't. of Republic of Seychelles and affiliated to Motivational Strips, awarded an Order of Mahatma Medal, a Tribute to Mahatma Gandhi, an Award for Peace and Literary Conduct, to him. Recently, his debut English poetry anthology, "Sillage", was published, along with an international edited bilingual poetry anthology, 'Trouvaille" and his debut Odia Poetry Anthology, "Meghapanata" (the veil of rain), has been launched. Apart from writing poetry, he is also interested in social work, gardening and traveling. He is a life member of the International Red Cross Society and has also worked with Rotary International.

Written by Imtiyaz Pandow From predawn to dusk, an empty stomach of long fasts. The remembrance of Creator for all. The empathetic approach toward humanity. The donation of Sadqa and Zakat. The endless recitation of holiest verses of Holy Quran. The wait for Iftaari to break the fast with fresh dates and fruits, with soul-cooling elixir of Rooh Afza and milk-soaked seeds of Basil. The countless blessings of Lailat-ul-Qadr, of Sahoor and Iftari, of everyday and last Friday. This practice of being consistent for every good deed keep burning the sins, so ash-less! As no traces left behind. O' the Illuminator of hearts, We seek your guidance. O' the most Merciful! We seek your mercy. O' the Most Forgiver! We seek your forgiveness. © Imtiyaz Pandow Imtiyaz Pandow is from Budgam, Kashmir, a postgraduate in Journalism and Mass Communication. He has worked with several local and national media organizations. Imtiyaz is interested in poetry and fiction. He is also the Web Content Editor of ILA Magazine. Image of Poet and Web Content Editor, Imtiyaz Pandow

GUEST Yes, the lane was the same, but there was no presence of the naked fakir on the pavement, looking at nothing and occasionally crying out ALLAH-HU. I saw a uniformed shadow, peering through a bunker. Had my fakir exchanged places with him? Did he too, feel a threat and hid himself? I did not see the house of my neighbors, who had a pomegranate tree in their compound. The big gate, open to all, was missing. The half-burnt window reminded me of my parents. Winding deodar staircase were ashes. Drawing room with its Persian carpets and rung and colorful bolsters, which had hosted guests, was untraceable. My idols of faith were there but they were on the road like pebbles. there were new names, new faces, new roads, new walls and new gods. I was like a guest in my own land. © Professor Indu Kilam Professor Indu Kilam taught English in various colleges of Jammu and Kashmir, for more than 3 decades, and retired as Associate Professor from MAM post-graduate college from Jammu. A translator and a social activist, she has been working for the cause of women and children. She has to her credit, the translation of Ms. Naseem Shafaie's Sahitya Academy award winning collection of poems, 'Neither a Shadow a Reflection'. She has also translated a number of Dogri poems. Holding a brilliant academic record, she has a Masters in English and a degree in Law, and has been living in Jammu since 1990. Her poems are nostalgic and she moves with ease from the past to the present, penning memories with a delicate touch, making all, beautifully poignant.

I AM FINE My cheeks have started to hurt from the smiles I wear all day, trying to hide the cuts and scars that threaten to peek out, every time. Someone asks me how I'm doing. My eyes have grown tired of holding all the secrets inside, ready to spill out every piece of the scattered mess that I am, as tears or blood, when I run out of my "I'm fine" lies, someday. Everyday I hope for someone to pull my mask away, and stare right at the core, where I sit curled up into a ball, in the corner of my mind, trying to get away from my own thoughts and feelings. Everyday, I hope for someone to tear through the pretense around me, find me inside, hold my hand and, take me away, to some place far. but every night, when I'm still there, alone, I hug myself, cradle my soul, and go back to sleep, with the screams and shrieks as my lullabies. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo

FOR EVERY DREAM I am in the fields for every dream shattered under the weight of traditions and every freedom shackled by chains of customs. For every sister traded for her brother's honor and every mother abandoned and abused for the birth of a girl child. For every bride tortured and burned alive for the dearth of dowry and every daughter deemed less worthy of education and inheritance. For every child whose books exchanged with henna and every wife whose autonomy was buried with the vows of her marriage. For every woman, called names and judged impure, because her body fell prey to your lust, shall rise a generation with anger in their eyes, anger, that does not forgive, that does not forget, that does not breed years of generated trauma. A generation of gallant men and women, who are not afraid with the idea of equality. A generation of women who do not need men to define their worth and beauty, who are not slaves to the notions of centuries, who are not silenced by fear or consolation, who breed children that fight for a world where men and women walk on the same road not as subservients and masters, but as equals and worthy, with might and dignity and grace, that God created them as worthy and beautiful. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo

FIVE FIFTY-FIVE Moon hangs like a wire in the sky above tree touched roofs of semi-detached houses while clouds become waves marking the passage of afternoon into evening. Looking down upon pale yellowish leaves scattered on the moist green not daring to dance against the moods of a capricious wind which casts away scraps of discarded memories Meanwhile, from an upstairs window, a small red-haired figure imagines these scenes in his mind before writing them down on paper hoping to make some poetry out of all pictures he sees on this bleak autumnal weekday. © Julius Howard

An Interview of Sugar Zedna by Carl Scharwath Thank you, ILA Magazine, and your dear readers for allowing me to highlight another amazing poet and her story. Today, we meet Sugar Zedna, "Jenny", born a Filipino and in her words, "With a little Spanish blood and a dash of caffeine in my bloodstream." She started to write at the age of 9, has a Bachelor's degree in Political Science and a Master's degree in Education, with a major in teaching in the early grades. Sugar was the Editor-in-Chief of her college paper. She has multiple publications and has won many awards with her writing. Writing is her passion, but this multi-talented friend also is a part-time fashion accessories designer and dabbles in sketching, using pencil and gel pens. When she's away from her art, Sugar is presently a teacher to young children, a speaker in various events and host programs. Carl: Good morning, Sugar, ILA Magazine is so happy to have your time today and my first question is: 1. Please tell our readers about your poetry style: Sugar: My passion is writing essays, quotes, and poems every day, to vent my creative juices. Words are my way of conveying my witticisms and fun side. I am an ardent lover of the arts as these are outstanding souvenirs to future generations. My poetry is generally short, practical, real-life situations, fiction and whimsical. I don't dwell much on the serious side of life as stress would kill me. I love to write about human relationships, nature, endless metaphors of human existence and so on. I am still a budding writer/poet, I know I still have a long way to go and my way is by joining prompts every day. 2. Interesting what you said about prompts. I know you are an active participant in the ILA Group and enthusiastic about their prompt challenges. How has this helped you define your style and improve your skills? Sugar: Very much, as these prompts push me to get my brain cells moving, to think fast, to focus on the theme or picture and scribble coined words. It is like working with grace under pressure, there is a deadline you have to meet and it is a must to adhere to the theme and number of lines without sacrificing the entire content of your entry. 3. When you first picked up that magic pen to write at the age of 9, what was the inspiration? Sugar: I was called "Silent Water" by my teacher in the third grade, as I didn't want to participate in class discussions. I hated reciting in class. I used to sit at the back, so I wouldn't be seen. But I loved it when class activities or performance tasks involved writing answers, that's when I started to get noticed. My teacher asked me to write what my favorite place was. (At the time, I frequented a US Military base located in my city where I considered to be a small city within a city). So, I wrote about Camp John Hay's skating rink with an ice cream parlor adjacent to it. My teacher was so impressed with what I had written, she told me that she could almost see the place with how I vividly described it with my words. She said I would make it as a great writer, someday. Her words served as a motivation for me. Her admiration for my simple essay was seen in her eyes. Everyday she would read aloud, whatever I had written for the daily theme writing. (This had made me blush every time she read). My teacher was my inspiration. 4. Tell us who your favorite poet or writer is and why: Sugar: I must say, my dad is my favorite writer because he was a journalist for one of my country's top newspapers, after that, he was also the Editor-in-Chief of a local newspaper. Though he passed away when I was three years old, it was only when I was in college, that I came to realize the deeper meanings of his love letters to my mom. At a young age, I never really knew how cunning and brilliant he was with his writings until I met people who, one after another, told about his multifarious achievements. Presently, people who notice my writing style, say I write like my dad (I guess it's a case of writing style begets writing style). 5. How do your poems develop? Please guide us through your process: Sugar: I normally start with a clear mechanism, meaning, I rid myself of other concerns and focus on what am I going to write. I pause. I always believed in the adage that goes: "A peaceful mind, generates power." True enough, form a single thought, ideas flow naturally (especially when I'm under writer's mood). It's like magic. Like I'm lost in a sea of words, metaphors, alterations and allusions. I write everything that comes to mind. When I'm done writing, I Thank God for the gift of words and for the patience of my hands. (Sometimes, when I go over a finished poem, I am in disbelief that it was me who wrote that. Like it was me, saying: "Did I really write that? Wow! I'm a Bard), no kidding aside, when you're a writer, there are occasions when you cannot explain the myriad of ideas that abound in your mind. Some thoughts dissipate in seconds, so before that happens, you should've written that on a piece of paper, otherwise, it's difficult to recall what it was. 6. Can you please give advice to someone wanting to write and publish poetry? Sugar: Some pieces of advice I could give to budding writers, include: (1) Read a lot. You have to be a voracious reader. By reading, you are going to learn so much. (2) Widen your vocabulary as these words are your weapons. Read the dictionary or thesaurus, learn at least 5 new words per day. (3) Write your personal journal, you may never realize it at the start, but this is a very good practice for you. (4) Assess yourself. Know what is your forte. Or the genre of writing you are good in. (5) Join a lot of literary platforms where you could showcase your talent, but never share everything there. Be wary of p people who might steal your poetic pearls and claim these to be theirs. Share a few, but leave a lot for yourself. (6) Keep a copy of all your writings whether these be in digital storage or the old-fashioned notebook. (Mine is both, I still love writing my poems on a nice notebook alongside with it, is a sketch of a beautiful flower that I might have seen in shirts, hankies, bags or blouses.) (7) Join a lot of prompts. Like what I said a while back, these let you think fast. Prompts also widen your imagination. (8) Be humble. No need to brag. As true talent is seen even if you don't show it. (9) Appreciate the works of fellow poets (old and new), as you will learn from these, too. (10) Maintain a clean heart, devoid of envy and also avoid being extremely emulous. (11) Thank God for everything. (As all these are nothing without Him). 7. Ok, Sugar, in front of us, is a crystal ball with your name on it and the words of a new poem just forming. In the future, what are your goals and what would make your creative side the most happy? Sugar: As of the moment, I am contented with coming out of my shell, sharing some pieces of my poetry, joining prompts, being included in anthologies and gaining friends. But in the future, I would love do do some collaborations with some friends...writing the very subjects hat inspire a lot of people. I would also love to author a book or two, someday. Carl: Thank you so much, for your answers as I and our readers wish you the best and will follow your journey of creativity. Sugar: Thank you so much for the opportunity for letting me spill a portion of myself. I hope my words would bring a smile in the face of people who read this. More power to ILA Magazine and the entire editorial team, most especially to Annette Nasser. More power to you. God bless you all. Image above, "Double exposure of Sugar Zedna", by Carl Scharwath Photo of our Interviewer, Carl Scharwath, at the beach. Carl Scharwath has appeared globally, with 150+ Journals selecting his poetry, short stories, interviews, essays, plays or art photography (his photography was featured on the covers of 6 journals). Two poetry books, 'Journey to Become Forgotten' (Kind of Hurricane Press) and 'Abandoned' (ScarsTv), have been published. His first photography book was recently published by Praxis. Carl is Art Editor for Minute Magazine, a competitive runner and a 2nd degree Black-Belt in Taekwondo.

By: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo You see, My Ammi- She tells me, How her ribs contract, Whenever she breathes, How her back aches, Whenever she sits for too long, How her eye lids feel heavy, Though she’s unable to sleep, How her nails- Have acquired a purple shade, Which is sick to the eye, How her bones crack, All of a sudden, How her pulse doesn't escalate, At a normal pace, How her bed, isn't warm anymore, How her eyes, They have lost its color, And that there's a void- Seeping thru her heart. How her fists, They aren't clenched anymore, How her body is weakening, And that she's losing everything, From the tips of her fingers, Like the pixie dust, the glamour- The glamour of grief, sorrow, empathy. But still you see, She awaits for me, With her arms wide open. To sing me lullabies, To bring me home, To shower all the pixie dust, That of love, and happiness, Over my distant being. All of that, When I cannot do things anymore, She encourages me to do it once more, When I think its all over, She tells me to start over, It’s all about her- After all, My Ammi. Poet's Bio: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo is a student from the Kishtwar District of Chenab Valley, in Jammu/Kashmir. She is an avid and enthusiastic writer, penning both poetry and fiction. Her poetry covers a broad range of ideas, thoughts and philosophies. Currently, she is working as a freelance writer and columnist.

By: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo Rice from a holy grain A tiny droplet of merciless rain Anatomy full of pain Terrifying armament facing this shame Buried framework Scorching sun Ruthless nights Dead sights Bloodlines Death of peace, I witnessed on this holy night. My death right across my eye May be measured casually or tonight. Ain't a job schedule of the dreams But might be the last one. Unsure if it's worthy tonight Joyful, favourable, advantageous, thoughtful Dream of my words Words of my dreams There are no longer stairs to walk down They are burnt forever Ain't no point of going down I'm already beneath Deep, very deep Underneath I walked down still No, we don't have funerals That's consistent A day with you, Another without. Yes, that's my mum Ain't no doubts, because Gunshots have always been loud. I hope my dad's alive Wait, am I still alive Is that hell life Or life after death Or both at once I have been broken; I have been apart, I have been dead, I have been hell, I have been all at once, through A Mercenaria All because I been a great, Great citizen of Kashmir. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo From Kishtwar District of Chenab Valley, Jammu/Kashmir Poet's Bio: Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo is a student from the Kishtwar District of Chenab Valley, in Jammu/Kashmir. She is an avid and enthusiastic writer, penning both poetry and fiction. Her poetry covers a broad range of ideas, thoughts and philosophies. Currently, she is working as a freelance writer and columnist.