The War of the Little

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The ground bellowed,

She woke up feeling the tremor.

Frightened, she wrapped herself in
the warmth of her arms.

Then, silence.

But she trembled,

Sleep abandoned, eyes cluttered by fear,

She stared into the void,

Tears rolling down her eyes

In haste to get away and disappear.

Right then, she wished she were those tears

Flowing away from someone’s eyes,

Those sound drops pitching into the emptiness.

She saw the sky lit up with thousand sparks

Not firework, she observed,

It was fire, flashing into stillness of the night.

The blaze grew bright,

Her room took on the orange hue.

She closed her eyes not wanting to see

But the melancholy cries of the people echoed in the darkness of her room

Shutting her ears, she laid down

Trying not to feel the thundering ground.

She wished she was with her parents
Sound asleep in their bed,

Buried deep into the earth

Cocooned by love, care and the still earth.

She slid deeper into the comforter, eyes closed,

A prayer made way from her parted lips.

She relaxed herself, but her ears vulnerable to cries exposed,

Drifting into dreams of the ethereal world

That she wished to be in

Escaping the cold dark ones, she lived in.

Time embedded this little event In its Book of Endurance

While the starless night witnessed

The hostility of human to one’s own kin.

________________________

Is it too controversial? Do I seem too naïve? World in all its chaos, we still deem it beautiful. We look at ourselves; miracles that ruined themselves.

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