Ammunition, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

Ammunition

Hear the war cries,

The roar of battle,

And the utter stillness

Of two armies locked in cowardice.

 

No one wants to make the first move,

No wants to shoot the first arrow,
No one wants to load the cannon.

And no one wants to lob the first spear.

 

Let’s load the trebuchet,

With the bitter stench of insult,

And the cruelty of the world,

At the foot of the war.

 

Long-range shots,

Scatter on the ground with wicked nature,

And terrifying debris,

Sets the army alight.

 

They’re all crying,

Sobbing with a fervor,

Tremors shaking the earth,

And their weapons are used as tissues.

They cut themselves up for comfort,

And through the gaps in the armor they bleed,

Until all that’s left is a noble little corpse,

With a head, a thought, and a plea.

 

Let’s load the trebuchet,

And let the villains fall.

Us or them?

Who can tell?

 

Who can tell anymore?

Let’s load the trebuchet,

And let the villains fall.

Us or them?

 

Corpses or compatriots?

Let’s load the trebuchet,

And let the villains fall.

Us or them?

 

Who can tell anymore?

The stench in the air is malevolent,

And the tension in the air is sibilant,

For all they are serpents.