BY SHIVANI SINGHAL
With a grief of their own,
Becoming a shoulder for the unknown
Hoping for a warm hug from their homeland, without fear of war
Echoing laughter of innocence in the streets,
Pages of resilience etched on every civilian soul
No more beloved blankets,
Left with only - “please let it be not my last call”
Silenced by the 'new' normal,
Sound of bombs and bodies pleading for no more
Some celebrate, some wait for agony to end,
Some for tears to stop, for vanished history to be etched,
For thrones to fall
Photographs archived with blood,
Hanging lifeless on the cracked wall
Unborn babies, not safe even in a mother's womb
Child in hand, a father bidding a final farewell,
With the promise of rebirth,
But not with the same destiny to uphold
Saved, but at what cost?
Trauma,
Where do I go when my heart aches?
For a pleading mother to hold her lifeless baby one last time?
For a young couple keeping their vows by dying together?
For a young girl unsure why blood drips down her legs in that war land?
But no pad or anyone to ask for sure
A brother hugging his sleeping dead brother's warm arm,
Hoping to end this hide and seek
Dreams scattered,
prayers unanswered
Sweaty they woke in the middle
of night,
listening anxiously to the breath
of beloved whispers
Future unwelcome, tomorrow close to an end
Where the powerful dictating every
life
Will it cease? Will it stop
Umm.. ohhh
still need more lives