When war mulls over

An illicit child that none who so wants, Child of incest, if world’s one family— A truth to no warmongers ever haunts, And to which all here are reconciled with. Grown in the wombs of deep-dwelling desires, I’m nourished by ambition’s burning fire, Born one day, burst forth from a stubborn maw, I devour first those that raised me on birth, As terror, I hit all the watching eyes, With loud laugh I blow up all ears that hear, Caught by throat, all talking tongues go speechless, I feel, I am on way to victory… And yet I know, truth never is with guns: When so I see a blood-dipping body, I feel defeated nigh, forever done, When see someone hugging a gasping flesh, I feel defeated again by my gun, When tender sprouts crop up to soothe land’s wounds Caused by the enemy’s raging missiles, I feel defeated in eyes of heaven, Amidst collapsed buildings’ clear opening, When see footsteps of innocent children, I feel defeated then and all but done, Defeated oh by my very own gun… And vague, delayed wisdom dawns unto me: Can I ever defeat immortal life? Phoenix-like that rises from ash of death That hath a religion, nor ever creed. __________________________________________ Reflections on happenings |10.12.2023| war