Ankica Anchie Biskupović
Moderator 
Ankica Anchie
This poem is a reflection on peace, humanity, memory, and the moral choice to reject hatred. Through the symbolic image of a human voice rising from the ruins, it asks what remains when borders, victories, flags, and divisions lose their meaning - and whether poetry can preserve what is most human within us.
WHEN THE LAST HUMAN SINGS
When the last human sings
upon the ruins of the world,
do not ask
which country they belonged to.
upon the ruins of the world,
do not ask
which country they belonged to.
The earth will then be only earth -
a handful of dust
that received, without distinction,
the victors and the defeated.
a handful of dust
that received, without distinction,
the victors and the defeated.
Do not ask
in which language they prayed.
in which language they prayed.
The gods learned long ago
to understand weeping
without translation.
to understand weeping
without translation.
Ask instead
why they kept singing
when there was no one left
to listen.
why they kept singing
when there was no one left
to listen.
Perhaps they will tell you:
because somewhere,
beneath the stone,
a seed was still breathing.
beneath the stone,
a seed was still breathing.
Because a single bird
upon a burned branch
was waiting for morning.
upon a burned branch
was waiting for morning.
Because in the pocket
of a fallen soldier
they found the photograph of a child
who did not understand
why adults invent enemies.
of a fallen soldier
they found the photograph of a child
who did not understand
why adults invent enemies.
Then they laid down the rifle
that had never truly been theirs
and lifted a violin
with one string missing.
that had never truly been theirs
and lifted a violin
with one string missing.
They played
with silence.
with silence.
And for the first time
in many years,
no one won.
in many years,
no one won.
No one lost.
There was only one human being
standing before another,
standing before another,
without a uniform,
without a flag,
without an order
to stop calling someone
a brother.
without a flag,
without an order
to stop calling someone
a brother.
Perhaps this is how peace begins:
not with a grand speech,
not with a signature
beneath the lights of palaces,
not with a signature
beneath the lights of palaces,
but with the moment
when one hand
refuses to do
what hatred has commanded.
when one hand
refuses to do
what hatred has commanded.
And if one day,
of everything we once were,
only a poem remains,
of everything we once were,
only a poem remains,
let it not say
who conquered the world.
who conquered the world.
Let it say:
here, at last, humanity learned
that the Earth was never
too small for all of us -
that the Earth was never
too small for all of us -
it was the human heart
that was too small
until it opened.
that was too small
until it opened.
Amb. Ankica Anchie Biskupović
Croatia
© 2026. All Rights Reserved.
Croatia
© 2026. All Rights Reserved.
