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Hinged

Hinged

I flew across the border, with my wings spread wide
Fear, tear and blood - was all I saw.
A little one of four
clenched her fist,
she held a flower her mother kissed.
There was anger in her eyes,
said she hated how her mother lies.
She hated how they have to hide - hide from them
I saw them - fighting - again.
A war that caused so much of pain!
There were screams -
of people dying, and of many new born crying.
Thunderous sounds of swords swinging in the air
cutting through peoples' neck, head and elsewhere.
With her clenched hands she toddled towards safety,
asking me to come. 
I was disguised, and appeared glum.
The little girl was shot - right through her heart - 
right in front of my motherly eyes.
I was impuissant, I could not even touch her.
I heavily watched her bite the dust.
I was hinged to my illusory grave on the battleground -
where now,
my little one will also be found.

Copyright © Spoorthi Kulkarni

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