The Mark Of Me Poem by Showkat Ahmad Wani

The sword of wrong is all that fate ordains,
A blade of woe forged deep in fortune's fire.
The grief it speaks, it tears the breast apart,
And carves the land with letters writ in pain.
The path of man is hard with shackled steps,
Each moment binds him deeper in its chains.
Each age, a wall of night where sorrow speaks,
And martyrs fall beneath the weight of wrong.
Processions pass, yet none will voice their grief—
The mark of me: a wanderer through dark.
(2005)