An Unholy Night
The battlefield of war
Is ever in motion.
A once peaceful, thriving land unsuspectingly and unwillingly
Falls prey to conflict.
Countless innocent souls have been threatened
By illness and torment, their life
Hanging by a single thread above the boundless abyss of death.
Take cover, men! —My comrades, we can fight
But all efforts will be in vain.
We will not lose to power,
But merely to our fruitless attempts of protecting our nation.
Fighting conflict with conflict is futile.
We may be called cowards, but
Our enemy is not their army.
Our enemy is war.
To die is simply a minor attempt at quenching
The insatiable hunger of the tempest of death, plague, anguish.
You and I; we will not be its next victim.
An unholy night —unstirred, yet unnatural
Residue of the wreckage,
Remains of the revolted and
Remnants of the regime.
What a ghastly sight —once hopeful soldiers;
Once valiant fighters, lost to sickness and pain,
Seized by the hands of death.
They don’t matter anymore;
Their past, forgotten as they become
Yet has there no end
To my suffering?
To your suffering?
To our people’s suffering?
Where is the end to
Leading people to their inevitable demise like
Lambs to the slaughter?
Is there no end to
Meaningless destruction just in sake of
“Winning” the battle?
They may have won this fight, but
Nobody wins in war…
I believe my presentation was the better part to reflect on of the two. The poem was spoken with emotion, changes in dynamics, and changes in speed. In my opinion, my poem could have been presented better with more actions and body movement.
Image Citation: https://www.timesofisrael.com/major-parts-of-syria-have-effectively-been-bombed-back-to-ottoman-times/ Edited with Preview by Apple.