Kaviya =Ajith C Herath=

The Whispering North

The wind blows from north  still whispers,

While the soft voices mourned, fade and disperse.

Corpses  unburied, immerse in unknown oceans,

Curse upon thousands of  Gods and hundreds of  nations

Dead, wounded, scattered limbs and tents burning

Remained upon the massacred village

Amidst Dreadful screamings, Waves of killing and raping

Stormed, and bandits start to pillage.

The  formless shadows of  Children, women and Elders

With bleeding wounds and worn old decaying tatters

Lie begirt by despair, barbwires  and murders

No Miracle nor blessed,  surviving from the barrages

Their Flesh and blood are still suck by the savages

The  supremacist  totem engraved on female corpses

Decorates the ceremonial nights of  demoniac soldiers.

And  the  Adrenalin overflows with heroic sperms,

While  a sinister smoke ascending over dark Canopies.

But, the wind blows from north still whispers.

Ajith C. Herath

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