The Soil Of Sin From the Soul Of War

“Amidst the fertile, farm of, faith
In the, fields of fear, life and death, tryst
I wade, thru dead, like life’s, lost wraith
In war, every man, is a, mortal alchemist!”

“From France, I send you, remembrance
For no gifts, are there, in Normandy
Where life, kisses death, in nonchalance”
Wrote to mother, one son, lost in, fiery frenzy!”

“Unlike, bliss of dust, baptized by rain, in our, humble home
Here I smell, a different petrichor, when on soil, spills gore
As if, faith and fear, dissolve in loam … ;
… scream, Shalom, Shalom, Shalom … !!!
Ain’t faith, and fear, shades of, same syndrome…
… age after age, faith begets, fear’s chromosome … !!!
I only hear, each night, death knocking, on my door!”

“I’ll die, yet last, in my, last souvenir:
‘War is, merely, Man’s Madness’, Metaphor’
Sighs, a son’s silence, glory, of a, vain martyr
In The, Soil Of Sin, From the, Soul Of War!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra

One comment

Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s