Behold, a won war, bathed in gore
Baptized, as though, an age, in fear
Strewn martyrs, with spent, prides galore
By bleeding sea, death’s dance debonair!
Who’d sold, to men – “Your sacrifice,
Would be, history’s, last spectacle”
Didn’t tell, why martyrs, pay the price
Of a, death-gamble, political!
Whose blood, we sign with, armistice
Who lost, their lives, our war, to win!
Their rituals, of, fear and malice
Paeans euphemize, to ‘sublime sin’!
Why history, loves to, vindicate
Blood-fests as, manhood’s metaphor
Beyond faux-epics, we create
Where Is, The Glory, In A War!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra