Feb 14

Bloody call

I call you,
My brothers,
To die.

I call you to spill your blood
Across the thirsty ground
So we may grow freedom
From the seeds you planted.

I call you to march ahead
And face your deaths
With heads held high and
Eyes of steel.

I call you to be pasted across
The posters,
Decorating mourning cities
Years after your deaths.

I call you to watch your friends
Be blasted apart,
See the last light leave them
In their final breaths.

I call you to be mourned
By those who live,
Missing limbs,
Missing friends,
Missing love,
Missing joy,
Wanting death with hungry eyes.

I call you, my sisters,
To feel the rage
Burning up inside you as
You take up arms,
Sometimes open,
Sometimes in disguise,
To defend what you feel is right.

I call you, my sisters,
To mourn those who left
And then never came back,
To feel the empty spaces where people used to be.

I call you, my sisters,
To feel your heart wrenched apart,
Losing a few pieces
In the wreckage of your home forever.

I call you, my sisters,
To live in countries
That will never recognize your worth.

I call you, my sisters,
To never be praised even when
You die on those battlefields,
To see their disgust as they find out
Who you really are.

I call you to
Carry the weight of a thousand deaths
On your backs,
Dead husbands,
Dead parents,
Dead wives,
Dead children.

I call you, my children,
To watch as your parents
Step out the door
And never come back.

I call you, my children,
To fear not the monsters
That live under your beds,
But those who drop bombs
In the night.

I call you, my children,
To feel the hunger shaking
In your body,
Whittled down to a ghost.

I call you, my children,
To be the toll
Of a war that you never
Asked for.

I call you, my children,
To look up with
Haunted eyes,
Haunted minds,
Haunting monsters that never
Leave you.

I call you, my people,
To whisper unheard prayers
Into the air,

To clutch each other close,
And hope that
You’ll never have to let go.

To have parents bury their children
In small,
Cold graves.

To watch as your lives,
Your homes,
Everything you have ever known,
Go up in smoke.

To feel pure terror as you run,
Run for your life.

I call you, my people,
To go to war.

 
About the Author: Nightheart
"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion"- Albert Camus
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