War Is a Curse

when war approaches, miles away it scuttles sideways like a crab or creeps slowly, slowly and slowly like a reptile, with holocaust claws; a quick eye sees, a smart heart reads, at distance. war, as you may think, is not the pandemonium occasioned by the actions of noisy missiles, nor the havoc wrought by Satan 2 explosion. war is not the sporadic shootings nor the rumbling grenades that make the noble cities a desolation. war is quiet! war is when the noise has died down, and the murky smoke disappears from the sky to settle in the mind; and sundry sicknesses begin to creep upon the earth. war is when poor souls are left to endure the wroth of a ferocious hunger; when we remember our friends and lovers but can never again see their faces. then the soul wanders in the nostalgic path of peacetime, and we wish those cruel days never be. war is the sight of miserable kids separated from their parents without a parting message. war is the plight of women stripped naked by the death of husbands and children, and that of the promising kids turning waifs amidst of desolations. but we can win a war and lose nothing, we can win a war without a gunshot, if we avoid it early. for those who start fire are not burned by it. those consumed by the flame never want war. must we let peace lead and shun war. must we let love rescue the earth from the verge of extinction. for when we fight in the war, it's only our friends that we kill.