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By Sravani Banerjee

Bombing, blazing horizon, blackouts,

Deafening sirens, shelling, shattered glass.

Terrified in the trenches

musty smell of damp earth.

Clutching my sister's hand in the endless night,

Secure in my mother's arms despite the imminent peril.

Silence, as a jeep approaches stealthily in the dark of the night.

Hurried footsteps crunching the dead leaves

Trepidation—is it dreadful news from the front?

My mother's tears and whispering benediction

Running into my father's arms,

So grateful he's still alive.


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