Sarin [Khan Sheikhoun, Syria , April 4 , 2017]

Spring in the air
Olive and cherry trees
Crisp and invigorating breeze
Verdant hues
Of orange, yellow, purple
And blue
Juxtaposed with colours vile.
And then, hate simmers
The world shimmers
Smoke turns the sky dark and lacerated.
Corpulent gray clouds loiter,
Their underbellies outlined in flaming, reddish pink.
Blood –curdling screams as hearts begin to sink.

Tear –streaked faces, broken crayons
Scarred earth, hunk of metal
Twisted like humanity.
How does one mourn a loss so great?
A loss perpetrated by corrosive hate?
A devastated father refuses to part with his twins
Nine month old.
Lingering near the cemetery, lost in thought
Another kid, [who has perhaps just learnt to count?]
On his tiny fingers
Ticks off the number of pals he has lost in this attack.
A dog frantically tries to lick his master back to life
As a dazed man hunts for his missing wife.
Eyes wild, another cannot stop kissing his
lifeless child.

How does one lament humanity’s fall
Perhaps, bless the stars for mercies small?
Be happy that two tiny tots were lucky enough
To be buried next to their mother?
Or smother one’s moans
Into a silence

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Santosh

An educationist with a passion for writing , having published some novels for young adults, some essays and some poems. My poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi will soon be published .

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