On The Hill...




The sun did not rise that day,
Not over the crowded rooftops and the narrow lane.
All trapped within that wall of fear ,that unholy mesh ,
For fear of cold lead, of dogs and beasts craving for man-flesh.
From those spared to the ones taken to kill,
This I saw upon the hill...



In fear of days to come some hid,
Under roof,floor and piano lid.
No more games this is war,
Come out ...come out where ever you are....
They spared no brick,no home, no bone nor broken will,
This I saw upon the hill...



They shot them down limb from limb and let the blood flow,
Caring not for their sins defiling the virgin snow.
For the grey clad beast shot on and on, having not a soul to sell,
When you saw that face you have heard death's own knell.
Gathering fuel to burn in the beast's own mill,
This I saw upon the hill...



Amongst the carnage and those that bled,
Tottered the little one caped in red.
She cared for no race wanted no fear,
Wanting ever only the one's she held dear.
I hoped against hope for this little Jill,
This I hoped upon the hill...

"if its abstract, let it b, if there's confusion, let it show...if there's turmoil, let it flow..."
-Krittika Mondal