War Poem by Sitabz Garg

The old moon smells
of dust,
the bloodless peasant girl
I have to share her with old and ancient beings.
In a road that belongs to none
I sat alone and wept until the dear departed spirits
rose and humbled me.
My poor being,
Who did I trouble now?
They are all gone
Can't you See.
Here I sit and listen to the singing ghosts.
Their wordless lament
makes the day envy the dark.
Who do you sing for, I ask.
They can't hear you I say
With the bombs and the
fiery metallic clouds.
The snake around my
neck tightens its grip
I see a hooded figure
in the corner of my eye.
Distant lights flicker
They mock me:
We hide your friend you lost,
they whisper in unison.
Come find him here,
you will but have to walk a few steps more:
He is waiting.
I heard them say
The poets, they come in large vehicles.
They drink
They make love and sing old songs
and huddled in embrace they cry and beg to be forgiven,
They wail violently
To the raped and disamboweled
The hawk and the fowl they came from the same playground.
Look at our children
their parents said
They write poems,
theyread old books
They will save us.
Spring is here but where are the flowers?
The trees all chared
The birds all thousand miles away
Spring lies barren
In the smoke
This is not mother's flesh
That fills my wound
Nor my land where I lay now
Deep in the ground I smell my mother;
Of burnt flesh mixed with the flowers it smells like her and everyone else.
All you unburdened and untouched we were once where you were
unburnt and unbroken
We too were drunk once.