At War . . . 
Night bombing
leaves the garden
white as death
Vultures waiting
for the leftovers
of the sacrifice
Whiteness of the moon
and rocks howl with the wind--
fear in the veins
In the ruins
searching her photo:
evening
Standing behind
the window bars observes
darkness in shapes
Awaits his son's
phone call from the border:
dogs and cats wail
A dead voice
calling up at dawn:
drowsy eyes
Alone
on her bed rings
the cellphone
Unmoved by the wind
he sits on a rock wearing
peace of the lake
R.K.Singh
Dhanbad, India