She doesn’t know why? War Poem.

A little girl, fragile as dawn’s first breath, 

Dust has settled like a veil upon her tender face. 

In her small, grimy hands she clutches

 A tattered, soiled doll—her only remaining companion, 

Her sole friend in a world turned to ash.

In her wide, innocent eyes swim pools of pure wonder, 

Uncomprehending of the horror that has unfolded. 

She knows not why her once-vibrant city now lies shrouded in silence and ruin, 

Why everywhere lingers only smoke, flames, and piercing screams that tear the sky.

She cannot fathom the mountains of rubble— 

The shattered skeletons of homes and hopes— 

Nor does she understand whence come these fiery orbs of death, 

These blazing spheres that rain down like wrath from heaven.

She knows not that these missiles of flame are forged and flung by human hands

That it is man who has become the merciless god of destruction. 

Those same blazing bolts have slain her parents, 

Snatched them away into eternal silence, 

Yet the little one still waits, unaware they shall never return.

All was calm, and then suddenly the earth itself trembled and quaked, 

As if groaning beneath the weight of man’s inhumanity. 

The summer heat, already merciless, now swells with the furnace of falling fire, 

And her innocent lips grow parched and cracked. 

Her tiny frame aches with a desperate thirst— 

A single drop of water has become the longing of her entire soul

Someone asked her softly, “Child, where is your home?” 

With a trembling finger she pointed into the distance, 

Toward a once-proud building now reduced to a blackened, smoking carcass, 

From whose broken ribs thin wisps of smoke still rise like dying prayers.

Nothing remains. 

Freedom has been violently torn away, 

A liberty that once only the Divine could claim or revoke. 

Yet now, Man has crowned himself God— 

Usurper of heaven, architect of hell.

Man has become the greatest enemy of humanity itself; 

No other foe remains.

And when this little girl, along with millions like her

The orphaned, the homeless, the broken children of war— 

Finally comes to understand the truth of what was done to them…

Then what shall they become? 

What fury shall bloom in hearts that once knew only innocence?

Perhaps they will rise to take revenge,

And we, in our comfortable fear, 

Shall label them terrorists.

Please STOP the WAR!

Suhas Avhad (Author, LitNova)

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