WAR Poem: Crimson red or the War in Bosnia (2024), by Velibor Baco

A small child and his friend,
sworn together to the end,
no thought in their mind,
that hatred was blind.

The meaning of end,
was soon comprehend,
upcoming were fast,
ghosts of the past.

The knowledge request,
not knowing were blessed,
the answer was passed,
that day was their last.

Balkan mountains,
close to the sea,
memories calling,
the small child was me.

Dark clouds from the sea,
a new ruler to be,
to drown them in sorrow,
raining tears would follow.

Centuries old memory,
his breath is slow,
generations of family,
his wrath would grow.

Look into the eye,
to name his messenger,
it is fear in every tear,
and sorrow it’s executor.

Years have passed,
my memories shadow,
through tears have grasped,
one thing I know,
his ways in disguise,
two names I will show.

Some call it insanity,
best to not know,
testing world’s reality,
infinity as pain will show.