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One year and more if people should die still,
Bombs keep raining, missiles shower red rage,
All seem routine to hearts hardening nigh,
World feels sad as an after-thought on stage.

But so had people died of Covid scare,
They’d died alone, though buried in same grave,
Becoming just a number so lonely, 
When threshold of pain goes up man gets brave.

All suffer, even continents apart,
Not merchants and brokers of war machine—
Business that hardly has a feeling heart,
What with Shylock’s sharp mind ever so keen. 

World markets learn to adjust with the time,
Deficit, surplus seek levels anew,
And people’s life gets attuned to new rhyme,
They only suffer—the suffering few.

Alas, today’s wars can go on and on, 
Putin putting up an ever grave face, 
His rival, far from a chameleon,
His country getting the maximum mace.

Nations now spend bigger bangs on defence,
Merchants of war sole beneficiary,
Defence a pseudonym for an offence,
A way to boost dormant demand from ranks. 

Who the gain and who gets pain, hard to say,
Humanity has lost a few rungs more,
West’s happy to harm, shy enough to bleed,
To US of A one more proxy war. 

Like enmity do wars on their own breed,
The motion kept alive oh to save face,
Unwillingly as with its handbrakes on,
As if to prove who ahead is in race.  

What if heads roll in this senseless charade?
False prestige must go on a starless stage,
What if the stands are all but deserted,
It matters not, shallow gets when the rage.

The price paid has now turned statistical,
Selling bible to atheists in mirth,
Leaving in limbo issues ethical,
In last throe seems UN, Oh since its birth!     
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Happenings | 07.02.2023 | war

Poet’s note: Call it an outright aggression or a lingering war. Forget who’s right and who’s wrong, leave all pros and cons. The conflict goes on even after one excruciating long year. No one is the winner, all world a net loser. It just goes on as if it is a routine, international trade. All else have learned to adjust, not Ukraine which is bleeding heavily, but still no less keen to wound, if not win. Is all this war-mongering of any worth? This narrative in quatrains wonders.
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