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 Alas!
Nevertheless the battle never ends for the post-traumatic fellas.
A warfare between remembering and forgetting,
My mental state gives me intense smouldering.
Feeling horror beneath my skin, Out-stress all-bound,
Failed therapies, I couldn’t bear up my baby’s cry sound.
On December solstice night, whilst my family’s happiness reached its height.
I pulled the trigger with my skull intact, that’s how a warrior survived by murder-suicide.