Sword That Wielded The Hand Poem by Vera Sidhwa

It's trajectory,
The hand did not know.
The left and the right.
The up and the side swipe.


The hand to the sword yielded.
The sword to the hand wielded.
The back and forth exchange,
The motion that would later change.


The destruct of soldiers,
On perilous grounds,
As they moved along,
Ominously black frontiers.


The sword wielded,
The soldier's hand.
It's trajectory moving wild,
In an unpredictable land.


The hand asked the sword,
'Why are you moving me,
In a way I don't wish to,
The soldier asked as his anxiety grew.


'Why do you force me to,
Side slice, thrust forward,
Move to the left and to the right?
Why do you plunge into someone's blood? '


The sword answered, 'it is your perception,
That I cause the carnage,
When it is you who do it,
Because you want to.'


With self-understanding,
And a blood dipped sword,
The hand dropped it,
As the sword stood still.