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.
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