Asifa,
I do not know if there is a Jannat.
and if there is, are your beloved horses there?
are the mornings mist laden
and the mountains snowy-blue?
your wounds, have they healed?
do you laugh now,
as you chase butterflies
in valleys of a thousand flowers?
Me, I think we are just carbon
(a poet may say stardust)
and after a life lived (or not)
in this world,
we become dust or ash.
But for you, Asifa,
I want Jannat.
You chirped like a bird
and ran like a deer,
your mother said.
So may there be a heaven
where you are far,
so far away from this pain
to which living is bound.
Where you are safe
from violating hands
where your face fills with
your beautiful smile again.