By
Indunil Madhusankha
Bringing History to the Limelight
In no small abundance
their history has much bloodshed and massacre
to hail to the whole world
as their unfailing achievement
More than thousands and thousands of lives
was their thirst for power
that saw mere nothingness
The pages of its blood-inscribed chronicle
countless in numbers with accounts on
sinister eyesores
Bombs, guns, shells, bullets and all other explosives
Synthetic man eaters
not leaving even the infants
Once the bodies blasted into tiny flesh pieces,
the blood sprayed upwards and
mingled into a pool on which the fragments of flesh
swam around in search of renascence
They saw blood steeped flesh cords
hanging out of newly committed wounds
on their own bodies
A few minutes before the irrevocable destiny
Foul smelling pale corpses like carcass
mounded on streets, pavements, schools, and
playgrounds like rotting stagnant fish
In abattoirs, coils and coils of barbed iron wires
tightened round their bodies
while trails of blood poured down
The dead if possible would make a ladder of themselves
and descend down from heaven
into the earth to unveil the torture
they underwent
that sounds inexplicable in words
The chunk of hideous hostilities,
may be you yearn to forget
Yet there surfaces a difficulty
for the fright has entered into your bloodstream
and runs perennially throughout the body
If the dead history
just simply evaporates from your memory,
the utter unawareness may lead to
a smouldering of the past scars
So let its memory pass
from generation to generation
even to the posterity
Don’t let this sleeping dog lie
for at this point ignorance is not bliss
and may result in
unpredictable, tremendous jeopardy
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