To the soldier

In a far-far land

of sand and sun

amidst the fired bullets

and falling bombs;

you tremble.

Not of fear

But the cold

That runs through your spine

turning once warm eyes

into icy cold.

And it can’t hold.

the humanity:

that writhes in you

breathes

it’s last.

you drift to abyss.

embracing

death and dying

mixing

blood and sweat

burying

love and hate.

and when all cries and noises

turn into a dreadful silence!

You,

A winner; surrenders!

dripping in others blood

trying to crawl away

from an oblivion.

at that moment,

As you reach for your scruples

in that far-far land

of sun and the sand,

here

I twist and turn

To fit into the jigsaw puzzle

Of your battered confusion.

Kathmandu,
December 20, 2014
Posted by Smita at 11:51 AM

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