Bloodstained Masquerade

Dr Asem Tomba Meetei
Faraway wars, a whispered plight,
In Hardy’s verse, Tennyson’s might,
A phantom charge, a life undone,
War’s cruel ballet, on screen began.
But then, the stage turned all too real,
My homeland burned, a wound that won’t heal.
World Wars’ echoes, a constant drum,
Now ethnic strife, blood seeping numb.
Who bears the blame? The innocent fall,
Displaced and slaughtered, a silent call.
The puppeteers, with strings of might,
Watch from the wings, devoid of light.
A masquerade, a heart of stone,
They feast on flesh, where seeds are sown
Of hate and greed, a twisted game,
Leaders they play, whispers their name.
Blinded by wealth, by power’s hold,
They dance this dance, a story untold.
But hope remains, a flickering spark,
The day will come, to leave their mark.
The day the wronged will rise as one,
A lesson learned, beneath the sun.+