The Wars of Now - a poem.

 

The Wars of Now

The wars of now are not of old,

Not tales in books already told.

They rage today, they burn tonight,

In shattered streets and sudden fright.

Where once the market stalls would stand,

Now dust lies thick across the land.

Where children ran at close of day,

They wake to hear the shells at play.

In Ukraine fields the cold guns sound,

And homes lie broken on the ground.

In Gaza smoke obscures the sky,

While mothers hold their young and cry.

In Iran, hearts endure the strain,

Beneath the threat of fire and pain.

In Libya factions still divide,

And peace is pushed again aside.

In Sudan roads are lined with fear,

As families flee with little near.

In Myanmar by candlelight,

They pray to pass another night.

The old lie comes in fresh disguise:

That war makes nations strong and wise.

That flags are worth a river’s tears,

That pride is worth these wasted years.

Yet those who pay are seldom known:

The child afraid, the widow moans.

The father searching through the stone,

The girl who learns to sleep alone.

And still, though cruelty stalks the day,

Kind hands and courage find a way.

A loaf is shared, a door held wide,

A stranger sheltered safe inside.

So if you ask what truth remains:

War gathers sorrow, loss, and pain.

And peace, however slow to start,

Begins in one determined heart.