Two brothers, on, pain’s pilgrimage
To the pyre, of their, land’s defeat
For the sacrament, of a, state’s outrage
Amidst, fear’s conceit, and a, faith’s deceit!

“That wasteland, where it, rained fire
Is still, our hearth, our heart, our soul…
Who made, us a, nuclear satire
Why our gore, paid, Hirohito’s, pride’s toll!”

“Maybe, that’s how, it had, to end
A war, of, dreadful dimensions
My nation, must learn, to transcend
Prejudice, pride, power, political pretensions!”

“May my Meiko, bloom, from this war’s, spent dust
Where fear, once farmed, history’s holocaust
Lest hate, celebrate, with dread, disgust
The Funeral, Of A, Nation Lost!“

© 2020 Vikas Chandra