Emerging from the pool blessed by that almighty,
their blood washed away, yet pain imprinted eternally;
The remnants, the droplets though failing to douse,
the vengeful fire ignited out of shock and disgust
at the level to which, the lust to dominate has stooped.
I drag myself to that field again, to keep that fire alive.
Limbs pulling me sensing the numbness of my mind,
walking past those shells, can feel them like thorns.
"I see death" at its glory, grief drowned in its revelry.
A thud to my knees, to find air in my silent sobs.
only to be disturbed by the sound of dragging,
as I see small hands collecting that field's mud.
The one to collect was boy too young;
Only at the edge of a bridge, that leads to adult hood.
The mud collected was soaked with Red;
The red of many a man, possibly many a woman's vermilion
Many vermilions dissolved in many reds.
In the mixture were some droplets of innocent crimsons.
This red mud stuffed inside a bottle, by that boy.
His innocent eyes, which to me felt a pitcher of an odd hope,
walking towards me, for a fleeting moment (I) felt haunted.
Only for him to cup my chin, and wipe my tears.
That red mud in his fingers, that caressed my tired skin
Felt like a balm to the invisible scars of the fire in me.
The blinding rage was replaced by grit and resolve.
That resolve had flames too, that wildfire now contained.
that Red mud bottle didn't muffle their voices,
imploring the fire within us to spark this red mud as a cannon
that will blow up the fort of this tyrannous empire.
His palm on my chest, like a plea to save this fire,
to make it a torch, to guide many more of us.
My empty eyes now filled, a sensation of a soul,
that resurrected my very being or did it ?
for the innocent me who romanced life,
now lays lost to be devoured by the crows along with others.
And the one underneath this flesh and skin.
is determined to drag tyranny to its impending doom,
as he flirts with his destined martyrdom.
