poeTRY (Volume 2)

True Human (mayastra)

True Human

The tired little girl went to bed,

Recollecting the days bygone.

Her mind played those dark memories

And sounds of firing canon.

Her valley was a paradise,

With beauty in every corner,

Lush green grass shining in summer

And a blanket of snow covered hills in winter.

Flowers bloomed in her garden,

With colour of the sweet cheeks of a maiden.

The trees filled with chirp of birds,

Lanes with swings,never empty

And a low humming of bees.

It was a valley filled with peace,

It was a paradise.

Until a tiny spark,

Let a deadly fire free.

Her little arms trembled

As she heard the sounds of boots,

Men speaking a foreign language,

With guns hidden in their coats.

Her valley was now quite,

With no little bird in sight,

And the only sound she hears, is her people crying with plight.

They never look twice;

If it's a man, a woman or a child;

They say it's for a higher good

That they need to pay with life.

She looks upon the wall

On which there's a wodden frame.

A picture of her family,

Who no longer have to bear the pain.

She saw the red ooze out,

From the heart of her friend.

That's when she learnt the lesson of silence;

That's when she learnt it wasn't the end.

Her little heart wonders

What makes them different?

At the end it's still the same

Heart thats in her and them.

She wonders what power is?

That how costly it must be?

That they have to pay

It with life and peace.

She wonders if they ever find

It so difficult to sleep

When they come back to tents

And count lives they reap.

All she knows is that it's wrong but she knows it's best to keep mum.

As even a tiny word from her,

And she is the next to be down.

What makes us human,

Isn't the brain in us.

But the mind that tells rights and wrongs and a heart filled with love.

For one is a true human

When he is humane.

Not when he raises his arms

Up against other one.