War's Moral Crossroads

By Arthit Kumar Dutta

The battlefield echoed with the chorus

Of the cries of men, and the splattering of blood,

Swiftly did I advance, on my galumphing horse I did fly

Beheading everyone who dared to stop in my way;

A flicker of valour in my eye.

It seemed that victory was near.

They had the numbers, 

Yet after years of bloodshed,

 we had mental resilience etched into our souls,

We faltered not, even if we bled.

In one lonely corner, where shadows reside

Was a young man, injured, trying to hide.

Instinct urged a ruthless deed

Yet the same instinct I held did plead.

“A young boy like that has a future, bright. 

Putting him to an end is simply not right. 

His mother awaits, His father fights for all;

Their son, a beacon of hope, about to fall.”

I dropped a dagger close to him. “Protect yourself,” said I.

I turned my back and returned to the battle so grim

 Back to the tormented screams of the war under the sky

 As I began my ride,

I felt my stomach split open

A crimson tide.

I looked once more, to the place where he stood, 

No dagger held, just cold, vengeful good. 

In his eyes, a hatred, a burning so deep, 

A future rewritten, where nightmares would creep.

By Arthit Kumar Dutta