Lessons We Never Learned

 

In school—

we read about wars.

Not games…

not victories…

but blood.

Loss.

Silence

after the screams.

They called it… history.

And our teacher said—

“Learn from it…

so it never happens again.”

But tell me—

If we learned…

then why

is it happening again?

India. Pakistan.

America. Iraq.

Israel. Palestine.

And now—

Russia. Ukraine.

America. Iran.

Different names…

same graves.

So where are they?

The ones who taught us?

The ones who were supposed to learn?

Why is no one—

pulling them by the collar

and saying—

THIS.

IS.

WRONG.

This is not strategy.

This is not politics.

This—

is humanity

bleeding.

Tell me…

why don’t we fight poverty instead?

Why don’t we build homes

instead of graves?

Why don’t we give people

a chance to live—

not just survive?

What have we become?

We know what’s right.

We know what’s wrong.

And still—

we watch.

Wars begin.

Lives end.

And we scroll.

Our ears?

Numb.

Our eyes?

Tired.

No explosion…

no scream…

shocks us anymore.

Are we still human?

Or are we monsters—

hiding behind comfort?

Or worse…

walking corpses?

Why does no one

hold them accountable?

Take them—

not to power,

but to truth.

Make them sit.

Make them listen.

Make them feel—

every loss they signed away.

Because maybe—just maybe—

One day…

In this broken, war-torn world…

Someone will wake up…

And choose peace.

And maybe then—

We will finally learn

the lessons

we were taught as children.

~ Dawn

Moon, My Quiet Companion

Life's longing did something strange to me -

The moon became my friend from childhood days.

Whether I found friendship in people or not,

With the moon, my love sank deep into my soul.

Childhood passed, and youth quietly arrived,

Yet my love for the moon only grew stronger.

With each passing night,

I tucked a little more of it into my heart.

And now—

Why does the moon seem only half in the sky?

Perhaps the other half of its heart

Has stayed behind with me.

I still hope, someday,

It will descend in search of me—

The way I’ve followed it

Through every street, every corner, every night.

~ Dawn

A silent bud blossomed

I brought that pot of flower home with tender care,

Yet seasons passed - no bloom was waiting there.

Months slipped away, then years quietly moved on,

I kept asking why no bud chose to appear.

I played the gardener’s role with patience and grace,

With water and hope, I nurtured it here.

At times it seemed a bud might finally rise,

But dry leaves gathered—nothing but illusion, unclear.

When hope itself had quietly faded away,

A silent bud blossomed, soft and sincere.

Adorned in violet blooms, it healed the waiting heart,

A gentle reminder—faith is always near.

Keep doing your part without longing for reward,

For in time, every effort finds its sphere.

~ Dawn

Learning still

 

Life is a journey strange—yet we are learning still,

We’ve grown in years, not in wisdom—learning still.

We thought in childhood, books would teach us all,

But beyond those pages, life keeps turning—learning still.

Who said that knowledge lives in schools alone?

In every breath and fall, we’re yearning—learning still.

To walk is life, to learn is how we stay alive,

Through every rise and break, we’re burning—learning still.

Death may be certain, the end of every road,

Till then, with every step, we’re learning—learning still.

~ Dawn