War Song

Aishath Sara, 12 A

“Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see,
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be…”

Years ago and even now,
Those verses echo through sun and snow,
Disguised as the phrase, “Ignorance is bliss,”
But it’s only a phase behind deceptive veils.

So dear little girls, please wake up.

Those verses that were once your lulling lullaby,
Will soon be what haunts you during day and night.
And all that seemed to bring peace to your mind,
Will cease to be means of bidding fears goodbye.

Dear little girls, please listen up.
Sooner or later, you’ll hear the bells toll,
Cracking the silence of our force-fed roles,
Marking the beginning of the masquerade’s fall,
And us women must unmask for the curtain call.

Dear little girls, please stand up.

From helpless days of floors strained against knees,
To selfless days of fulfilling their needs,
The road to freedom may seem a faraway dream,
Treated and seen as the lesser breed.

Dear little girls, please chin up.

With a tender affection towards the softness of the world,
And a cold hard shell against the sharpest of swords,
A veteran of wars and conscripted old roads,
Revere your self-worth and rescript your role.

“Que sera, sera…”
What will be –
we redeem.


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