In the sky as the children gazed,
They saw not a prism of rainbow
But ***** of fire-
Burning orange, reeking of death.

"Ceasefire, they said" the words betrayed
A mother of two lay dead
A father of three; beheaded

The echoes of joy, no longer reciprocated;
Only the cold shrill of silence repeated,
"Abbu, run faster" "Ammi ! Behena ! Bhai !

The skyline burnt with the missile's glare,
Children- elder, in smoke- filled air
With each minute; a corpse found,
Their homes now buried underground.

Their leaders chant "We'll avenge, we'll maim!"
So they trade blood in the same old game-
Missiles for Missiles, name for name.

The cartographer's pen trembles
Drawing borders in erased pencil,
While the land bleeds real ink.

Hospitals bombarded, Cities destroyed,
Only the schools remain,
But what use of it?
There are no students left to train?

At the UN, they count the toll
While the cemeteries overflow-
Your calculators can't handle the numbers!
The suffered missed on countless Decembers.

Oh God! What sins have they to repent?
How many dawns must break?
Before the children see a rainbow again.