Ruchi Acharya-Silent Bravehearts
The midnight scars tell tales of all!
Of courageous, bravehearted, polished, mighty heroes they call.
Stalwarts marched forward pounding boots on the ground
More tanks, More gunners, More men, All down.
Whistling bullets hits on the torso of noble-spirited,
Marrow freezes, tank sneezes; festering with hatred we drifted.
Invincible fires, fired the soldier whose friend was burnt alive
The battlefield now baptised in blood, grisly perfume of corpses arise.
Berry-red blood stains from the mouthless wounds drips by,
“We don’t turn away” shouted the combatant breathing under the pagan black sky.
With survivor’s guilt, faith in-built; the men with moral injuries cross-by,
Behind the enemy’s line, upholding wisdom and divine; their spirit never dies.
Outnumbered target-hits and explosives conquer the victory at last!
Nevertheless the battle never ends for the post-traumatic fellas.
A warfare between remembering and forgetting,
They are trying to cope up with grief and supportive smouldering.
Feeling horror beneath their skin, Out-stress all-bound,
Mistress’ hand from behind, Mother’s fine-dine,
Made their almighty strength sound and profound
On December solstice night, whilst the happiness reach its height.
I pulled the trigger with my emotions intact,
that’s how a warrior survived by murder-suicide.