About this poem and how I came about writing it -
The news of the recent militant insurgency in our Kashmir Valley which led to the death of some of our most elite brothers in the Indian Armed Forces moved me to tears. This is a poem I wrote thereafter. The poem is from a militant's perspective and how he questions himself on the bloodbath and reflects on his decisions made.
Waking up to December
Prepared to kill
All around a world beautiful
So quiet, so still.
Gun in hand he steps outside
Prepared to fight,
Dazzled by shining beauty
Of a world shrouded in white.
He fights for his holy by right
He fights for land
By hatred blind, on stories fed
Never felt the need to understand.
The gunshots became a reality
Once, twice, then thrice
The battle begins and none hesitates
Fresh bullets on a killing spree.
This feeling is poison that spreads slow
This maddening desire to murder and fight,
He goes on killing without thought
Without bothering to question his right.
Suddenly, he awakes to reality
A single word echoed inside
Slowly, he opens his eyes,
A question he asks ‘Why ?’
A war ensues within
Hatred vanishes within,
A moment of quiet thought
And suddenly everything clears.
The enemy suddenly seems to be right
And all they want is fair compromise
They too on stories of death arise
Blood-lust redden in their eyes.
And then a single bullet finds its way
Across the threshold that stood in between
There came the end as he fell to the ground
Pools of scarlet, the white snow hardly seen.
He looks up into the sky
To the world, he whispers a last goodbye
"Sorry Mother, a hater I died"
Now that you reached the end of my poem, I'd like to know your thoughts on it in the comments below.
Further, if you want to read about the humanitarian crisis happening in the Middle East, check out Mahija's article here.
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