Five years ago, he had joined the IMA*
In the prime of his life, he has gone today
He was injured fighting the militants
His body was ridden with bullets
Nobody would know for sure
What he had to endure
How much it hurt
While the blood spurt
On the barren ground
Where he was groaning, found
I wonder, what went on in his head
While he lay on the hospital bed
What was he thinking?
While he was sinking
Did he in his last moments of strife
Feel he had wasted his life
Fighting a senseless war
While the world watched from afar
Or, did he while breathing his last, feel proud
As they prepared to wrap him in his shroud.
What are we achieving?
While so many families are grieving
Over the loss of their sons’ lives
Some of whom have left behind wailing kids and wives
It’s time we learnt to live in peace
And this cross border tension had ceased.
*IMA: Indian Military Academy
the death, though noble, of a young soldier is really painful to mind...war is not a solution to differences between nations races of religions...a good poem 10/10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Mamta Mam' please read my 'Border', which I wrote just now inspired on reading this poem of yours. The untimely death of a boy a Man who took on the life of a Soldier with pride - The pride and honour he gained is his armour against his pain! What armour do we have to shield ourselves with when we face the pain? Angel