The New World Disorder

A month into the war, caught by the wheels of
disinformation war, I feel maimed and blinded
by the extraordinary news reels feeding my 
immense sadness and grief.
How many more Ukrainians will suffer before the
month is over? Will their national treasures survive
the relentless onslaught?
We who suffer the torments of big power politics, 
their cold and incandescent power, trapped by their morgue-like media,
defend and die for the truth, while the young conscripts
suffer their frostbites in a senseless fratricide war.  
A new world disorder awaits in hellbound future,
where might makes right, and right and wrong is settled
in the battlefields' lecture halls.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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