Savage

Some things are better to be left

Unsolved,

Forgotten,

Because the

Thunder

Of rifles and

Clash

Of steel

Is no match for a Mother’s

Howl.

A signature written in blood,

Twice.

And we laud ourselves

That we are capable of progression,

That we have learned from our mistakes -

Those venomed lies!

But as fin de siècle turns

What innately beckons is much stronger,

Like forbidden fruit

Some Hadean calling,

It begins again.

Because this time it is justified.

Why do we take pleasure in pain?

How might we ever want a repeat of those

Eight long years where I watched them

Writhing and

Screaming as they

Drowned

In the bitter crimson liquid that flooded the field with empty

Promise

And I bet you have never experienced

Pain the way I had

Mourned over those

Bleeding corpses

Where their blood became intermingled with mine own-

Two hues of the same red.

Stinging as their nails pierced my skin in

Silent plea

Leaving scarlet crescent moons

As the last

Drop

Of color left their

Eyes until they became but

Lifeless rocks on waterlogged soil

Where I vowed

My daughter should never be brought up

In this inhumane world,

Where everyone

Wants something for themselves,

Where everyone is selfish,

Where everyone is savage.

© 2021 Antara Martins