If it were up to me

I would wish you peace

of all the things in the world

because it’s been too long

that you’ve been fighting

unknown battles on faraway fronts.

I can see you

wearing out

breaking down

as the hands of clock

are running round;

living the battles alone

I had once hoped

to fight by your side.

As I lay now

in my comfortable chaise longue

and you wounded,

perhaps mortally,

in a distant battlefield,

I try to write

a string of words

a prayer or a wish

that might comfort you

against the ugly dance

of raging death.

There are n number

of beautiful words

you could say

to a parting friend

but I know

for you

“peace” is not one

“not till your last breath”,

you had said.

A warrior you lived

and you hope to die

nothing less.

So I’d wish you instead

all the pretty four lettered words

starting from “luck”

and taking the liberty

to end

with “love”.