The Glazing Object Poem by SHAMEEL AHAMMED

Confused, lost—
legs pumping, lungs burning,
running with the broken hearts,
searching for ghosts called family.
A boy waits.
Not for hope, not for love—
just food.
Then—a glazing object
descends like a fallen star.
His cracked lips part:
'God is sending me bread
for my starvation,
a roof for my shelter.'
He reaches—
Light.
Sound.
Silence.
A blast carves the air,
scattering him into the wind—
a hand still clutching a plate,
fingers curled,
as if praying.
A man walks by later,
searching, calling—
then sees the plate,
the tiny fingers,
and understands:
War feeds no one.
It only takes.


-MUHAMMED YASEEN KOLAVAYAL