Into a mind full of nothingness,
Enveloping the land with crusts of hope,
Bit by bit, the crusts turn bitter and dusty,
the flowers, her land and one mighty beast,
All molded into a fit of war.
Flowers wilting with the essence of doom,
Sprinkling from the clouds with no room,
For water, for a breather, neither peace.
Black smoke intruding her land,
Queen earth: she has lost her fad.
The crusts of hope sharing secrets of her life,
That tragically feels almost an eternity ago,
Pay heed to the cry of help; the beast grins.
A message to her that shouts,
“It’s ruined, finished. Gone”,
and greed erupts;
not a single soul to save her.
The rope strangles her; she struggles;
She tells the birds to rain stones;
“hold on”, the birds reply,
she, symbolises hope,
and challenges the beast,
Not once, not twice,
But a time long enough for an eternity,
as the crusts of hope bows to her.
Stuck inside the strong frame of war,
she loses her land,
she loses her flowers, her birds;
Her soul slowly parting with sanity;
But the world would never let her go,
she; with a cluster of bruises and charm,
holds on to this day,
as the beast barks doom,
and earth screams freedom.
Zenha Feroz (Degree Second Year)
