Illustrated by Dhriti Guruprasad
The grim sky,
Grey and bleak,
Reflects a stream of sorrow
As death grins at his reap
Houses and hearts lay shattered,
As they ache to escape the agony.
Bodies lay decayed and battered,
As their families, are slowly struck by reality.
The troops are called back,
Back to their homes.
But the fear is of a different kind,
It is the fear of the unknown.
In the midst of all this chaos,
The blood, the guns and the tanks,
The broken window panes silently mourned,
As their hearts sank.
Though shattered, they were still transparent,
In the lives of these nomads, they were the only permanent.
Even so, they could not provide a ray of hope,
Or a scene of serenity to these broken men.
The broken window panes,
Now lay completely shattered,
And yearn for people to fill these empty lanes,
With liveliness and not with pain.
