POLITICAL Poem: When Poppies Burn, by Muqitha Ismail

range, red, black
once a life, now into ashes,
dreams dreamt-
now turned to dust.

the price of a soul,
the price of a people–
melatonin, creed, and all that
which does not bleed.

the fragility of morals:
immorality tainted into divinity.
how profound;
surreal, unreal, lies–

white lies
of white lives,
and all besides white
now lies
six centuries and six feet deep
across six continents.

how futile-
lessons from history
remain in a story;

documented, recorded, live streamed
to eyes turned to stone,
hearts – forever frozen to the bone,
what can break these calcified souls?

if not mountains of bodies,
nor rivers of blood,
if not embers of flesh
turning orange, red, and black

then let it be a thundering curse
or a desperate prayer;

may the flames that shroud
these souls of gold
be a spring breeze
from where poppies bloom.