Lilac Skies

By Madiha

War sits, crouched in a corner.

“Come out now”, I say, “the conflict is done with.”

“Is it? Is it calm?”

“Yes. DOn’t you hear the peace?”

She looks vaguely at the tranquil eyes of mine, brimming with joy. “No, it isn’t.

Don’t you see? There’s barrenness around.

Sterility. Like a river receding after flood, leaving the debris and the corpses, The stench of rotting carcasses fed upon by vultures.

Where’s the calm?”

The careless observer that I was, hadn’t seen the gashes on her body Deep, stale and rusty, with the foulness of rancid roses.

Her dead eyes held visions

Of man against man,

Of cold swords against hot skins,

Of inanimate against divine,

Of the victory of blood over peace.

I cried at those visions- heinous, insane and cruel.

“How do you still live, War?” I ask her.

A ghastly smile she sheds.

“Oh I have been used.

A harlot man makes of me,

For his insatiable carnal desires

For his wretched beastly instincts. I am fed upon.

But I live for my children,

My children who perceive gunshots as fireworks,

Who but smile at me in my lurch,

Who would never know the lilacs of the sky, they only recognise red. I live for their eyes that water with gleams of hope.

I live for their hands that share their meager morsels with dying dogs. Naked, scarred bodies, empty stomachs,

Pious hearts and forgiving souls.

These children, I have birthed them. I live for them.” And War leaves. I fall to the ground. Slowly, weak, and then numb.

Careless observer that I was,

Didn’t see the poison on my hands.

The blood of a murder,

Her daughter I had killed and hence,

Had rejoiced in the victory. Above the gray skies canopied me. I closed my eyes.

I didn’t deserve a lilac sky.

By Madiha