I saw the world through the eye of an orphaned girl as we walked down the ruins of a city, ravaged by war and felt my heart clench in pain. Oh, what have we done! I stared into the eyes of hunger and counted the rib bones of starving children. Like dandelions against the fiercest wind, their lives in greatest peril. I saw Death's icy cold hands capture lives, the pleas of young and old alike falling on deaf ears. In his stead, he left behind wails of distress I can never again unhear. A city painted in scarlet red of innocent blood. A city which once was gloriously rich. A city, which once was happy.
I heard Evil giggling in mirth as possessed men opened fire and smoke enveloped my vision. I saw my sisters cursing their womanhood in vain- Defiled, their honour and dignity shred to pieces by men who claimed to be their brothers and fathers. I saw a child mourning his parents' untimely death. In between his sobs, professing his love to shut eyes. My vision blurred. Was it the parents' mourning their child's death? I counted bodies as Vultures hovered in the distant sky, bidding their time to swoop down and feast on flesh.
I heard voices of spirits rising as they begged "Peace", accusing me of the little I have done to stop this madness but Peace had fled the city. I tasted vile air polluted by deeds that made the Gods' frown down disapprovingly from Heaven. Life's sanctity burnt to ashes, Dreams dreamt turned to fallen debris. I mumbled prayers and watched it scatter like seeds as the wind carried it away. Maybe it will find its home in the neck of a defeated soul and maybe, he will wear it like a charm to ward off evil. Then unfathomable pain, like an old opened wound, racked my senses as we made our way out of the city.
Not willing to go back, not daring to look back, we trudged on heavily, carrying sacks of agonizing memories which will haunt us for all ages. To think that we will win our Peace by fighting this War, To witness brothers fighting against brothers, where did our sanity go? Where did our humanity go? When will this end?
This poem is from the perspective of a milk saucepan as it muses about the woman in the family, the being it is most familiar with. We tend to unintentionally attach the Kitchen and everything it stands for with our women and we most often take them for granted and consider them as being appendages attached to kitchens, not different from the utensils themselves.