The States Within
A poem to go by…
The land had unknown boundaries which seemed to be demarcated by the men just like the layers of fabric.
The unkempt hair, bruised skin, bleeding souls of the injured men were left uncatered.
The cold winds grazed the skin as the clouds came with loud and thunder.
The women in the camps were unfazed by the environment and seemed to have lost their voice like the hummingbird without a purpose.
A thriving population in the town started declining when the war broke out after the peace of two decades .
People started hoarding resources. Some rushed to save their kin while some rushed to save their skin. Some were isolated while some were in a herd. Some died, some lived while some were injured, killed and butchered by the goons.
Some fled to save their skin, and some stayed to save their kin.
While some lived for the sake of causing sin.
The governments left their people during the state of chaos while some stayed to make a different nation.
Everyone wanted a piece of the land, there you got the land.
But you didn’t get the heart of the people.
The buildings wrecked, houses shut, factories abandoned, crying voices and loud screams of men and women can be heard on the streets.
People fled for their lives. Some stayed. Some died. Some fought.
Sleepless nights and alarming sights. And restless days.
The war is ongoing. The pain is ongoing. The bleeding is ongoing.
What’s the fate of this land, No one knows. Only the time can tell.
— From the writer (A reference to Afghanistan)
