Warm is the war

Reporting the list, sir!
27 warm torsos.
261 warm fingers.
46 warm eye balls.
18 warm hearts.
38 warm ear lobes.
101 pounds of warm hair.
52 ounces of warm brain.
24 warm collar bones.
18 warm ribs.
23 warm arm bones.
52 yards of warm intestines.
105 cc of warm liver.
41 warm thigh bones.
9 warm shank bones.
39 warm toes.
1 pound of warm nails.
63 pounds of warm flesh.
983 warm teeth.
34 pounds of warm ash.
Peace prevails, sir!
Aye aye, sir!
Warm peace!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Ravi Shankar is a poet from Palakkad, India. It seems that he wrote this poem after seeing photos or televised images documenting the war in Gaza in July 2014. Every war is like that - cruel. Murdering children, adolescents in the bloom of life, pregnant women, grandmothers, calm gray-haired men. Yes, there are also those sent into battle. Some unwilling, some forced by monetary circumstances to join an army, some foolish and eager to kill and to die. Who are those directors of the cruel play who write the scenarios and who send them into a "theater of war"? And which public applauds them? (~aw~)
 
 

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