Gone Face Of The Valley Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Standing lonely beneath a tall and dense tree
Looking from the back towards her I crawled,
like an insect I had to dig the earth first,
and then I managed to crawl on the other side.
Above were wires with thousand volts,
below were mines raping mother earth!
Someone painting a face in a valley I saw.
A face ornamented with flowers,
A smile full of life dancing on the lips,
In a woolen ash color shirt with pink embroidery,
full sleeves hiding round silky arms
Shining long hairs partly hidden in a Kashmiri shawl,
the cuts and curves of her body just glimpsing.
Two eyes a little drunk in the teen aged dreams,
pink cheeks reflecting the apples of the valley.
Soundless and speechless, almost breathless,
I put my right hand on her shoulder,
"Whose this beautiful face is? "
Her heartbeats I could listen too clearly,
she was so much frightened!
"It's my face." She replied.
"Why do you bother so much to paint it?
Take my smart phone make a self-snap
and share it to the world."
"I can make it but it speaks the truth
you'll find a different woman in the self-snap.
I can't share it to the world,
since long I am deprived of the internet facilities."
"Why don't you turn your face towards me? "
"Here I am." She turned.
A face with marks given by the pallet guns,
having lost one eye.
In a torn dress having spots of blood,
and no Kashmiri shawl to hide the bleeding parts.
"In the painting you see my gone face! "