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An account from the sidelines

Dawn breaks,
The Night slowly gives way to the day
Changes are abroad.
A sick knowledge long dawned
Everyday could be the last so every touch lingers, Every stare takes in just a little more detail as death looms overhead.
The call to prayers from minarets, stand replaced by the sounds of cannons shooting in the distance.
The church bells substituted for the hissing sound as another rocket is released to tear yet another family apart.
A wife’s excited whisper becomes a widow’s wail
And a lover’s kiss, fleeting memories of the past.
Crackers and Fireworks at New Year become bombings and explosions every day.
A child’s sandbox becomes the ravaged ruins of his living room.
Water guns traded for rifles
Legos for grenades
Soft toys for mines
The Ice cream trucks metamorphose into armoured tanks.
Children grow up in a hurry
Little girls forced into womanhood.
The pretty pink dress becomes the Burqa
The comfort of the Burqa crudely snatched to be replaced by a sentence behind cotton prison bars.
A home today, a battle front tomorrow
Adults forced into a grotesque game of hide and seek
Gardens replaced by graveyards
Dilapidated school buildings, a symbol of lost dreams
A solitary tear runs down a father’s cheek as he tears away the limbs of a toy before carefully placing in the outstretched arms of a daughter, who has no memory of ever having limbs.
The children here don’t cry for a dip in the pool, they long for a bath to scrub their blackened faces.
They don’t yearn for chauffeur driven cars but the comfort of a mother’s arms.
They seek normalcy amidst the chaos.
But somethings almost remain the same,
The laughter
Ringing out in its purest form
Only accompanied by hollow eyes of Uncertainty