Dove At War

By Tanushree Kar

An innocent being,

Stuck in the battlefield.

Feathers stained with red,

As she watches the dead.

Ruptured and broken,

She cries for them to stop.

Their ears deafened by the roar of rage,

Destruction and misery it wrought.

It was a dove at war.

She shrieked as the blade split her head,

Bloodshed and tears: she thought,

What good did it lead?

Innocents killed, air turned to dust.

As the war ceased, a famine struck.

Why weren't we courteous enough?

Why were our hearts made of stone?

Why couldn't we abstain from the fight?

Why did we pick up the sword to decide—

What was wrong; what was right?

By Tanushree Kar