Monday, 12 September 2016

At war

Our wedding bells rung
Like every other couple
Except ours was a commencement
Of a forthcoming battle.

She was alerted beforehand
That setting me off
Meant putting everything at stake
But surrendering isn't an option.

Unlike me, her only armaments
Are her dangling ornaments
That jingle as she marches
And what the enemy clan is eyeing.

As for allies
She just has her neighbours
Who again might switch sides
As part of a strategy.

She could fall prey
To their constant scheming
But she will rise
Like she was never pinned down.

And even if the God of war
Descends on the battlefield
To declare a truce
Victory will still prevail.

Every second of her survival
Is a tussle in itself
Because our probabilities
Can turn out to be inaccurate.

She could just be out in the garden
Watering her white roses
When the bulletin would be updated
With blood stained reports from the warfare.

She could be slipping a postcard
Through the mouth of a mailbox
When my lifeless body
Would pass her shadow.

Once the news breaks out
It will hit her like a grenade
And though she would shield herself
She'd still thrive as a worthy opponent.

If there would be a series
Of missiles shot to honour me
Give her a tribute there and then
Because she is the real warrior.

And if at all an epitaph
Would be laid in my name,
Have her sacrifices engraved too
For she is the one at war.


~Poem 31


Glorify her risks
(Picture credits: Gunduz Agayev)