She stood there, clueless;
Little lass for her age.
The spillovers of war swirls around,
Blood and dead chequered down the path.
A heart of steel she must have had
To behold the man-made hell!
Stoic looks to the violent blasts
She must have hided the fear in her eyes
“War”…the word gathers all ‘aargh’
Took away her smiles, shelter and sleep.
A circle of gunman with evil eyes
Targeted the innocent lives.
The warzone; inhumane and horrendous,
She needed to remain unseen.
So she camouflaged into,
The mysterious curtain of dark.
From a distance a voice called her,
First feeble in tone, it then came closer.
It was none other than night herself,
She sung a beautiful lullaby for the girl.
“Hey dear, coming past twilight
I’m the so-called ‘midnight’.
I will wrap you in my arms
Give you a warm blanket of love.
I will put you to sleep
With a soulful lullaby, despite war.
“When the sharp noise of blast hits your ears
Close your eyes and ears.
When the ache of appetite strikes you
Find the fig trees I’ve saved for you.
I’ll dress up your bruises, which will heal
When the first rays of sun hits your face.
I shall melt your tears
Though I know is only the tip-of-iceberg.
Forget the odds, and let me free you from all,
No threats should scare you to fall.
Come to my lap and I’ll kiss you goodnight
Even in the light of war.
Here you shall doze with dreams
For a better tomorrow with peace.”
…Night bids her a ‘good-night’
And the lass’s eyelids closed to night’s lullaby.
She slept on night’s lap
Whilst peace is not declared.
She lend her tiny hand and hold night tight and
Whispered…dear night, you are my only parent alive!
Dr. Alka Ram
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