Distant thunders of  wars threaten
my peaceful
landscape of sleep,
in bed I twist and turn
shocked by the cries of
people getting killed for
reasons hidden or unknown;
when lives get complex
like tangled knotted  strings,
for death to snap it
hardly needs  any reason.

Bombs explode and light
a wild fire of destructions,
creating an illusion, that
it's just a happy fire works.
Misery has it's reign everywhere;
women  are unconsolable in grief,
men are  in moral turmoil.

Waking up I realize,
nightmares come in waves
soaking up waking hours with remorse
in our sad sordid times.
Bad dreams at night are merciful
as one is insulated from
being a nervous wreck.
how could one look away
when one is  bleeding from
the  eyes like a martyr?

Mothers are wailing,
fathers go missing, all of a sudden
children are made orphans
with no place to call their own.
Nobody seems to be concerned;
no one  any more is
the keeper of one's own
brothers and sisters.

The world collects statistics
and explanations dutifully,
reports are written
and stalked in shelves;
all hyperbole, lies and nonsense
signifying nothing,
in a wold broiled as
love had gone missing.

In this silent  night, smelling blood
of sacrificial lambs,
a  pale moon hangs low
like  human conscience;
  silent witness or accomplice?
We stand here in the shadows confused;
"Aren't we trudging back to darkness?"