Hate

13th April, 1919
"Stand up!" He said, "You know it's true,
You're sacrifice will be for the better good."
It stung my eyes, it drained my mind,
There was nothing there that I couldn't find.
He spoke, and spoke,
For hours, no joke.
He told us we were brave,
We'd fight for freedom, nothing less,
Ere we be sent to our grave.
Confused I was about my people,
The ones who stood to fight,
More than that, the ones in suits,
Who'd gathered round at sight.

What's wrong with us? Why do we hate?
Hate all those chosen with the same fate?
I held my mother's hand so tight,
I didnt want another fight.

The uniformed men sat down with guns,
He said, "Sit down! Cowards don't run!
They won't shoot, no wrong we've done,
They're just having a little fun."

Still more confused my mind became.
Was hating just a simple game?
A game so fierce it led to killing,
And curbed the hearts of all those willing?
Why can't we hold each other's hearts
Towards our own, and never part?
And never hate, and never die,
My thoughts disturbed on hearing a cry.

The bullets fired straight through them,
They screamed and shouted, I was overwhelmed.
My mother's hand soon disappeared,
I trembled, this was what I feared.

The commotion around me, burnt to ashes.
It was almost over, I saw only flashes.
He who spoke now lay on the ground,
His mouth produced no word, no sound.
All I saw was blood and dirt,
Everyone was seriously hurt.
I couldn't find my mother's hand,
Amongst the blood and bones and sand.

Why is it so? This is way we feel?
The grief and pain, they never heal.
Among my chain of thoughts, my heart,
Was pierced with something, like a dart.
I sat down, and then lay my head,
Amongst my people, who were all dead.