Cup of Banana Milk

 

In alleys long, where shadows crawl and stretch their length,

I saw her eyes;wild storms I could not understand;

She trembled soft, her past erased by cruel hands of fate.

A shell struck hard;the gods in furious dance above-

I lost my sight; the sun and rivers faded from me;

Yet in the dark, her laughter pierced the endless night.

I offered her sweet Banana milk, pale glow of innocence;

Its fragile warmth-a hope that even broken hearts can hold;

A taste of days untouched by war, by blood, by fear.

We spoke of love, of fleeting worlds that cannot stay;

Of holding on, when history draws borders in our hearts;

Dreams torn apart, yet still our hands could grasp the small light.

She whispered tales of past she never lived nor knew;

I murmured futures lost, yet still we shared the present;

Our silence spoke of courage that no war could erase.

Borders drawn in blood, nations torn, homes swept to dust;

The rich survive, while streets bleed, the poor left to decay;

Yet still our fingers clasped, defying all the world demanded.

Orphans starve, while others dine on gold and pomp of kings;

We sip milk and dream, aware of hollow justice there;

Sweetness mocks the bitter taste of life denied to all.

Our fragile hearts became a universe of whispered dreams;

Sipping sweetness in the shadowed ruins left behind;

The milk,the taste-a memory that nothing could consume.

I could not see the dawn, yet felt its gray light on her face;

The shell had stolen vision, yet not the world inside;

Through her eyes, I glimpsed the sun, the rivers, and the skies.

We made small rebellions in the silence, acts of love;

Each glance, each laugh, each sip defied the chaos outside;

And every shared moment became eternity in flesh.

At dawn, blind, orphaned, poor, yet whole, we stood as one;

History could try to steal the world, but not our hearts;

Our love-a fragile fortress, stronger than the shattered earth.

Because in quiet moments, infinite worlds are born;

Not in sight, but in courage, truth that holds when all falls;

In fragile milk, in whispered love, we live beyond despair.

When bombs have ceased, and borders carved in pain remain;

Our hands still meet, still grasp, still share the sweetness of life;

Yet we remember those abandoned, left to rot in silence.

Let this small love, this fragile sweetness, be a call-

A prayer for peace, that nations might unlearn their wars;

That children grow in gardens, not in alleys stained by grief.

For in the quiet milk, in hands held across the world,

There lies the hope that hearts may break the endless cycle;

And all of us may learn to build, not tear, what is ours.