The War That Will Always Be Lost

By Sakshi Srivastava

Fire child

wild and brave,

extinguishers around, standing in vain.

You shined bright, fearless, and ablaze.

There were people whispering

but I didn't care

you were my fireball

and no one could say otherwise.

You were who you were

and I beamed with pride.

Years ago, I had a fireball just like you.

But

I was young and far from wise,

further away from what was right,

extinguished a flame before its rise,

Lost a marvel before it was ripe.

But this was going to be different

you would be the war that will be won.

But you my girl,

your fury was the talk of the town

tremors felt far and wide.

People eyed your fierceness,

with envy and guile,

not that I cared

but I feared.

That all of them together

were planning a sinister fight

against the apple of my eye.

Should I have given into the paranoia,

and seen the war brewing outside.

I could tell you not to step out

But I couldn't possibly ask for what was yours.

I just saw them observe you closely

and you putting on a valiant might.

Your light shined too bright.

It blinded them.

You posed a challenge,

the glow and radiance

it wasn't acceptable.

To them, you could either be a precious gem or cease to exist.

But your flames were far from tame.

You were beyond them.

And history was evidence

anything out of the ordinary,

was either demonic or irrelevant.

But you and I knew you were one of a kind

born for true glory

to light the path of greatness

but does the world outside the threshold of our house

deserve it?

Can they even understand it?

These stray outside believed in the known

it was comforting and easy.

Because it takes effort to look up and high.

You hindered their convenience

Your voice was loud and clear

And your ideas are wilder than they could surmise.

They were angry

my fire child

I was scared for you.

They were coming for you,

Was it my fault; I sold you an idea that wasn't ours,

they came with buckets of water

to wash away the glory of our house

to take away our pride

to take away our chance to give the world

the light it deserved.

My dear fire child

shadows were gawking

I heard the goblins lurking

Was this the end?

Was it all over?

Would it be different

if I didn't have these ideas

to set you free ablaze

to burn you to your potential

After all, even a candle can only illuminate for a few hours

and you were just a child.

If I had closed the gates sooner,

conserved, preserved, and hid you

would it be different?

Would they not know of your existence

Would we still have you with us?

I miss you my curly-haired, kohl-eyed

daughter.

Now that you are gone

whom do I blame?

Myself, who in my war with them lost you

or them who will never be ready for you.

By Sakshi Srivastava