Writing

I'm Kashmiri. 

I understand the language but don't speak it 
Which sometimes makes me feel like a fraud. 

I never paid attention when I went to Jewish school, and I never once sat through services 

And yet I know the sound, like a heartbeat in grey 

The sting of hate, countless lives lost: death.

It is true; we have forgotten parlous strife!

Endowed with life, eager to neglect.

In a beautiful bundle

Of fresh red roses,

Does anyone notice

The one that is withering?

In a perfect sky

Full of bright, twinkling stars,

I’m learning that one letter 

Can make all the difference; 

One letter, or 

The lack thereof 

Could burn down a dream or 

Editor's Note: This painting, Crossing Familiar Waters, is the March winner of The Tomorrow Project's monthly contests.