“They who stand before you
In the battlefield
Are not your blood relations..
They’re your enemies!”
Enemies??
My enemies!!
The hands that held mine
And steadied my tottering lil feet
Enemies?
The palms that
Caressed my head
In blessings
Before an exam..
Enemies??
The lips that chanted prayers
For me
Day and night..
Enemies…??
The One whose last words
Were laced with concern
Not for his children
But me..
My Enemy??
The scythe falls down.
The blood that reddens
The earth
Is mine… my own.
