The Syrian Diary Poem by SANJIT MANDAL

War is Our Scourge
Whipped I am everyday
But who started?
Peace and prosperity
Once were in bloom,
Now what?

Termed it as ‘War'
Have seen it happening
Time ancient and time old
Witnessed killing of history
But not one like this,

Perishing day by day
Limbs are rotting away
Smell like dead rats
Filled is the dark alley
Dusk overrules,

Like a small child in Syria
Try to inhale some air
World crumbled down
Blinded
Don't see the light,

Darkness has descended
Surface is clouded
Nothing but dead air looms around
No life can survive
Heart breaks but empty remain the eyes,

Blood has turned cold
Now, feel nothing
Not the anguish of the dead children
Nor the wail of the mothers
They wait by the tombs shedding last tears
The voice
‘War'
"War"

Time is But a Golden Wind that Shakes the Grass
Middle- East
The golden era lost
In the shade of an apple tree
Petra sleeps comfortably
The eternal destroyer plays on,

Left with nothing
Cry for humanity
Nobody hears the dying whispers
Conspiracy rages on
Smashed to the dead music of the ground,

Some are jolly
No familiarity with the atrocities
No relatives died
Mere children of a community
Let them rot in the wasted pond,

Dance with music
Hear nothing of the cry
Deaf and dumb
The neutral Moon
Has always been,

Trade Centre burned
Nagasaki bombed
Jews exterminated
Taj pierced with bullets
But she remains still, sleeps

Laughs at our folly
The ravaging stupidity
Kill for the leaders
Nothing defended- Defenders
The layer shattered down
The green grass is wet
Their innocent blood

War's a Bloody Game
Game is played
Sitting on the thrones
The insects are burned
Demolished to the ground
Only pieces of dead bones
Witness
To tell the world
They were not mere insects
Beings of logic and reason
Became the victims
The bloody game is repeatedly played
The masked men dance
A showy pantomime
Act sympathetic
But no genuine sympathy
Schemes planned
Organization formed
The Devil takes the wheel.

My Soul Yet Longs for Light
Now I can move
Like the wind
I am unstoppable
Free as the clouds
Can take any form
No devilish hand can catch now
Freed from the fragile body
The form is rescued
Once inhabited
Now that form is baseless
Crumbles like a spineless monster
But no roaring
Eyes closed for ever
The light of reason gone
Yet the soul longs for it
For those alive
Unlike me,
Long dead,
Although a few seconds it took.

WHAT? ? ?
Three devils pointed
Came in unison
They see nothing but blood
The baby looks up
Already separated in the wilderness
Can't even walk
A few months old
‘What have I done?
What's my crime?
Born in a human society
My crime'
Only fire burns in their eyes
The guns are pointed
The baby looks in the blank
Hopes for parents
Finds the bullets
Waiting…
Eliot was right
The wasteland continues
No grass will grow
Bloody is the land
Dried
Dried of everything
Feelings, emotions, reasons, ..
Shrinking humanity
The second coming
The Devil is born
Falling towers of Humanity

The Blazing House
What was my fault?
A foundation
Slept well; dreamt in peace
Enough pure was the air
But can't breathe anymore

Soaking throats
Smoke and black smoke
Nothing's seen
Claustrophobic situation
No room to move or die

The evil came from nowhere
Engulfed me
Enslaved my soul
Whipping the existence
To pieces and pieces

The blaze rises
The innocent sky feels
Warmth is experienced
A bit of Hiroshima
Dewali lightning

No happiness on the faces
Scramble
Fall like ashes
Identity lost
Humanity is gone

Grope on the rubble
Touch nothing but dead bodies
Small limbs lie still
Dead pang on the lips
They don't dream anymore

Flesh and bone remain
My companions
To eternal doom
Like a fallen dead leaf
All will extinguish

The Scream
The angel in a grey sweater
Lost her angelic beauty
Blood smeared on the rosy cheeks
She cries like a helpless dog
The burkha worn woman holds her still
But no consolation
Parents are not to be found
Probably sleeping under the rubbles
Peacefully
Escaping the atrocities
Nothing good exists
Only politics survives
And gunpowder

A man in socks runs
A small child on his hip
Almost naked
The loudest scream goes unheard
A road with no end
Stones turn into pieces
Have no anguish
No sense of fear
"A Home or a farmland"
A dog's life

Two small girls in blue
Ducklings on the chests
They don't feel the horror
Lifeless, emotionless…
One opens arms like a beggar
But nobody gives alms
They scream to a void
No help exists
The empty trucks sleep behind.

26.2.2018