1. what is is not what always was
when [BORDER] we drive past [BORDER] the mountains that [BORDER] after the dragon-king. [BORDER] litter our path, descended from the lion-headed serpent, just a [BORDER] now. what [BORDER] what meets us now [BORDER] what could’ve been. my [BORDER], dead, guides the way. her mother, also [BORDER] shows [BORDER]. [BORDER] is just [BORDER], not a constant throb that ticks my waking hours. what makes [BORDER]? some mathematical equation of geography, language and [BORDER], what an ancestor [BORDER] and what one [BORDER]. who was [BORDER] and who was forgotten. the mountain grass silks, lightly speckled with snow. patoos draped on the [BORDER]s of men, khol [BORDER]ing their eyelids. sandalwood, badam & ghee; the spell that keeps the spirits at bay. we walk, the same [BORDER] my grandmother and grandfather did, [BORDER] in tow. honestly, there were probably more. i don’t always [BORDER] their names. allah, [BORDER] me. i’m a terrible study. no [BORDER] wants me. in the time before [BORDER]. when the water spirits held the lake, my friend tells me her [BORDER] used to drive from [BORDER] to [BORDER], hatchback, [BORDER] tied to the [BORDER].
2. what was lost, what wants
when [BORDER] we drive past [BORDER] the mountains that [BORDER] after the dragon-king. [BORDER] litter our path, descended from the lion-headed serpent, just a [BORDER] now. what [BORDER] what meets us now [BORDER] what could’ve been. my [BORDER], dead, guides the way. her mother, also [BORDER] shows [BORDER]. [BORDER] is just [BORDER], not a constant throb that ticks my waking hours. what makes [BORDER]? some mathematical equation of geography, language and [BORDER], what an ancestor [BORDER] and what one [BORDER]. who was [BORDER] and who was forgotten. the mountain grass silks, lightly speckled with snow. patoos draped on the [BORDER]s of men, khol [BORDER]ing their eyelids. sandalwood, badam & ghee; the spell that keeps the spirits at bay. we walk, the same [BORDER] my grandmother and grandfather did, [BORDER] in tow. honestly, there were probably more. i don’t always [BORDER] their names. allah, [BORDER] me. i’m a terrible study. no [BORDER] wants me. in the time before [BORDER]. when the water spirits held the lake, my friend tells me her [BORDER] used to drive from [BORDER] to [BORDER], hatchback, [BORDER] tied to the [BORDER].
3. what was & could be, again
when i go, finally we drive past the main city into the mountains that are named after the dragon-king. snakes litter our path, descended from the lion-headed serpent, just a legend now. what was, was. what meets us now whispers what could’ve been. my mom, dead, guides the way. her mother, also dead, shows us the line we cross. kashmir is just kashmir, not a constant throb that ticks my waking hours. what makes identity? some mathematical equation of geography, language and tribe, what one ancestor chose and what one left. who was loudest and who was forgotten. the mountain grass silks, lightly speckled with snow. patoos draped on the shoulders of men, khol lidding their eyelids. sandalwood, badam & ghee; the spell that keeps the spirits at bay. we walk, the same walk my grandmother and grandfather did, eight babies in tow. honestly, there were probably more. i don’t always remember their names. allah, forgive me. i’m a terrible study. no religion wants me. in the time before nation. when the water spirits held the lake, when the mountain spirits sat on their hinds, my friend tells me her grandmother used to drive from england to pakistan, hatchback, luggage tied to the top of the car.
