The children of the red storm

You've ignited a tempest, 
a crimson anger,
A defiance burning brighter than the summer's sun.
They'd armored the skies, 
and paved the earth with steel,
A chilling sword of blooded power,
raw and cold. 
Days bleed into nights, 
as wounds begin to heal,
Yet courage persisted, 
stories yet untold.
We yearned for triumph, 
a rise of liberty's gleam,
But memory's echo whispered 
coldly of winter's chill.
Millions of hearts restless, 
Dreaming a fervent dream,
Of a nation transformed,
where justice runs its fill.
They fabricated sunshine, 
a plastic, hollow sphere,
While outside, Commander Bengal Rain, 
too roared in cheer.
Now, victory's dawn has come,
We'll also bring questions anew,
For power once grasped, 
is hard to subdue. 
Debating with questions to whoever's rule, 
with youths' voices now strong,  
Demand explanations, 
where playing with power goes wrong. 
No longer the silenced,
the fearful and meek, 
Shape our own destiny, 
Your future to seek.

Tahseen Nower Prachi is a writer whose head is a koi pond of micro tales too scattered to come down to her keyboard. For more of her little pieces follow The Minute Chronicles on Facebook.