War—Day of Ten NaPoWriMo 2021

Ravens hover in the clear white sky
Playfully eyeing the fields of rye
Calamity struck, a massive flood
Fueled by my comrades’ blood

The heart that yields to the Rising Sun
The hand that grips the spiteful gun
The stomach that has hunger won
“Susume!” March forth, no place to run

And there he comes, my enemy, my brother?
Blue eyes, the look in every other
A finger quivering on the trigger
Just a pitiable, adolescent figure

“He is my enemy; I care nothing for him.”
In me, patriotism stuffed to the brim
My trembling hands take the aim
The ravens sing the morbid hymn

The Autumn of ’45 met
The Rising Sun is made to set
The red stains on my bayonet
Still fresh, still reek, still wringing wet

Eternal rendition in my mind’s cage;
The eyes that hadn’t come of age
The sandy head that touched the earth
The product of my martial worth

And now, my nation, what must I do
To rid my palms of this crimson hue
These wailings that I can’t subdue
Till death, I will pay the due.

Written by Anika Shukla for MTTN

Edited by Rithik Talwar for MTTN

Featured Image by Dileep for MTTN