View Full Version : ~*The Beslan School Tragedy*~

November 15th, 2004, 3:39 PM
If anyone haz kept up with the newz then they'll know that recently an elementary zchool in Russia waz the target of terrorizm. It waz a terrible, terrible event in which hundrendz of people died.
I did a very zmall amout of rezearch (radio, mom, newzpaper) and wrote a poem about this event. It requirez a little thinking zo if you're not the type who apprecitez having to think I don't recomend you read thiz =P
I decided to pozt thiz now, even though I wrote it two monthz ago because I recently entered a poetry contezt. I'm not zo zure how I did in the actuall contezt but I got a letter today informing me that I'm being publizhed in an upcoming poetry anthology(=DD). I figured it can't be that bad lol
(look for the book titled: Expressions. It'z publizhed by the American Poets Society)
BTW, if you don't know about the Beslan inccendent I reccomend you look it up before reading this (too) long poem. It'll make alot more zenze if you know what it'z about Oo''
Another BTW, I'm zorry for the tiny bit of language but that'z juzt how I thought the zituation zhould be dezcribed.
Of Judgement and Revenge
Alyssa --------
September, 2004

Its a day just like any other,
or so it seems
Who would ever expect that today,
of all days,
will be so different?
The only difference about this day
is that it is the first of a long school year

People by the hundreds;
walking, chatting, unsuspecting.
Parents trusting their treasures to what seems to be a safe haven.
Children meet up with friends preparing for just another year of work.

Beyond this thought of haven lies something more,
a forest watching over the school.
Shadows of trees hiding shadows of madness.
Thirty two figures
watching, waiting.
The moment to strike is close at hand.
They will not miss this opportunity
and the world will know.

Like an unexpected storm they move;
and emotions of happiness and anxiety turn into horror with the sound of a gunshot.
Through the power of insanity and gun powder,
the group of madmen are able to contain hundreds more their number.

Before long confusion and panic reach their peak
and are quelled into silent, desperate fear.
Halls once sounded by bells and childrens chatter now naught but the sobs of those lives aware of their fate.
A safe haven for the future turns into
what is truly,
Hell on Earth

Minutes no longer exist;
nor even hours for the doomed.
Time stands still for them.
Beyond facility walls three days pass
as a sickened world watch with but a glimmer of hope.

The shattered lives of the captives are wasted merely for the entertainment of the captors.
Hell has no food or water for the innocent.
Even with hope so far away
and death clawing at their feet,
they struggle to survive off themselves.

On one side are the unsuspecting souls;
hardly daring to breath.
On the other, insanity-stricken murderers clad in armor of gunpowder to match their devilish weapons.
Why are they so different?
Why is brutal slaughter so obviously wrong in one mind and the only way in the other?
Heritage, religion, or maybe a simple yet deadly yearning to be heard.

The sun rises three times in the outside world before the attempts of the outside break through.
Gods footstep, in the form of an explosion sets everything.
A war of modern day men will end it all.

A flurry of angry bullets are exchanged between two opposing forces.
What goes through the minds of the captors as the end approaches?
Surely they had to expect this.
All things must come to an end.
Surely they must have known this.

It matters not now
the war has ended.
The smoke clears as agnostic victims emerge
What a sight it must be
the footsteps of those survivors light the path like a triumphed ray of hope beaming out from the bloody abyss.
The relief of life masks any scar.

Countless lives were lost,
but their souls will live on
as a candle that is blown out while the fragrance lingers.
And so it shall forever.
From the ashes of war rises grievance and anger.
Relations of lost loved ones struggle to stay strong.

Quickly following tears are thoughts of revenge.
The corruption in the heart,
and perhaps even the thought that started this war.
But will revenge on the already judged really satisfy?
Or will it make the avengers just as guilty as the murderers they wish to be rid of?
For isnt the very definition of murder for one to kill another
no matter who the killer or what the reason?

These are the lost souls of children;
children with such a life ahead of them.
Would children want death in their name?

November 15th, 2004, 6:36 PM
That event was just horrible...... I remember seeing that on the news for days.

I can see how it can be published ^^, you really did a good job describing the whole feeling of the day, its more like a poem/story but still works either way. And your descriptions are just perfect from kids starting their day like normal, leading up to the terrorism that occured. I really do think that anyone who knows about the event should definatly read this.

November 16th, 2004, 6:34 PM
It waz really terrible =/ Zo many people zhouldnt' have to die for zuch rediculouz reazonz, and children on top of that.

But thank you very much =3 I waz a little nervouz about zhowing thiz poem off zince I wazn't zure if very many people would underztand what I waz talking about, but that really makez me more confident in my writing.

Oh, and about the publizhing thing. I'd really recomend zome people here to zubmit their poemz to zome placez. I've zeem zo many excellent poemz here, I'm zubrized more people haven't tried entering conteztz. I bet a bunch of people here would do really well =3

November 16th, 2004, 6:54 PM
That was a exorbitantly horrible event. The poem was nice.