Where shells are raining
And decibels are rising
Blazing tanks, automatics, grenades
Singeing the horizon in flashes
Shattering the sky with explosions, shouts, mayhem
Drying the hapless eyes of their tears
Old men, young men, old women, young women
Innocent children, the toddlers, the unborn
Wondering the whys and the whynots
Asking relentless questions
While remaining clueless about the hows
As they go about their lives
With clogged minds and blank stares
While the world debates
Routine engagements, mindless semantics, picturesque settings
Aid, arms, assistance, assurance, deterrence
More arms, more aid, more of conflict
While she stays cooped up in her shelter
Shielding her children who know not
What has suddenly befallen them
Why their lives have become half-lives
Why the half-lives are decaying slowly
Ever so painfully
Into the swirling depths of a giant maelstrom
While she scrounges around for the next meal
And looks heavenwards for that elusive god
Who has forsaken her, them
Amidst the chaos and din and mindful destruction
And the smell of sweat, fear and death
While praying fervently, silently
Not to any god but to her own steely resolve
To find the strength to survive one more hour
With some luck one more day
And then perhaps days, maybe months
And develop the courage to hold on even if by a slender thread
And to dare to hope

Subir Chakraborty
26th Feb 2023