WAR --------------------------- A hint of gold atop a page Gold flecks caught the light and shone A name imprinted in royal filigree Underneath, a line in soft gold tone Ashen sentences were strung across Some solitary strands, sparse, lonesome Yet each a deluge, a tempest, a tide Could arrest the march of time, for some On this beautiful page, the golden pen Could etch a story, poetry or shrine To love or peace or joy for ever But not this time, not this time Encrusted with tears, the grass that morning Wept a billion drops of sunlit pearls As a final scroll on the golden line Declared the flags of war unfurled Innocent lives condemned that day With a flourish, by a golden pen -- It shattered homes and tranquil worlds Killed or maimed a thousand men Perhaps that name underlined in gold Was thoughtful and was justified Perhaps it sent in true defense A thousand men to sacrifice A brave defense, a battle perhaps Shielding innocent blameless lives With no recourse except this one This one perhaps the righteous one But today the hand was one of who Merciless, blinded, consumed by greed Dismiss as moths, who perish in war To feed their dire and burning need Those beautiful pages stained in gold Ethereally so with their royal scrolls Fine lines and filigree of precious inks Tell tidal tales of their rises and falls How power, complete, absolute, corrupts Blackens like dust of charcoal mines Tell how, in places large and small Fools holding knives often sever bloodlines ************** Of the braves who fought in battlefields Some lost their lives, and some returned To orphaned, widowed, tearful crowds Their bodies, minds and souls now burned The battle changed the lives of all The loves and lives of those who remained The stories and memories of those who left Each a universe lost, for a morsel gained Of what was protected, nothing remained Tides don't return to a waterfall No golden scrolls reverse the acts That blind and deafen, maim and maul The reason, perhaps a valid one Was no excuse for what was done No man decrees what lives must be lived Or snuffed away, from the day, what sun We wonder, had the golden page Been a treaty of peace, a message or plea Would've all been saved, and peace returned Through channels of diplomacy? Would a decree, more thoughfully writ Have shielded, saved a thousand lives? Would war have ensued, had the golden pen Been wielded by the wisest scribes? Were a thoughtful muse to hold the pen Would the battle then have been foregone? Had her name been that of the wisest one Would they have returned, who hadn't gone? So the pen, that pen, that mighty pen Has shown over time, its strength on scroll With one stroke a sword has killed one man With one word the pen has killed them all ************** The forces of war are ill-defined Imperious hubris and lowly deeds Conceit of knaves, disdain of life Each seed, a tree of evil seeds Where one has won, another has lost It matters not how they played the game Why a war was fought, for its aftermath Time and again, has been the same Its a baton passed, of nauseous revenge Of anger, insults, that burn for long It rights no wrongs, this act of war By doing more wrong to assuage a wrong In such golden summits, that pen, a wand Instrumented erudition and sacred lore When waved, could feed the desires of some But never could quell their hunger for more Such was that name, on that sheet of gold Scrolled proudly in inks of slaughter-blood Centuries past, this name then gold Is evoked with contempt, its worth now mud -------------------- Copyright 2019 Rita Singh 300 poems Abbreviated version.