Lost In War

by Ishaan Singh Sarna aged 14

i knew this day would come,
the day i would lose faith in humanity,
when the world would be shadowed
by the shrill cries of my children
and others like them,
when a line, a mere line would be drawn
along my children and i.

as i walk through the shady camps
with children chatting
curled up in foil sheets, as blankets;
i think of this world
and it’s dilapidated humanity,
with the influx of bloodshed
and separation coming everyday;
and the mothers who lose their
children to this harsh world of bloodshed
and lost humanity.

i see a child,
his eyes a world, a world of shattered dreams
and memories of his family;
his eyes a barren landscape
which should be sown with love,
with the remnants of his lost childhood,
and the tender love of a mother.

still wandering, but lost:
i feel something caressing my scrawny skin,
i feel the scrawniness go away,
and the void being filled by the gentleness
of something soft,
a magnolia –
a blooming magnolia,
with its petals filled with the hues of
hope, of love and of assurance.
the pink, waxy petals
penetrating deep into my heart,
and the void being filled
with a short moment of ecstasy;

and i hear another gunshot,
the shrill cries and scornful pleadings
accompanying them.

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