One Last Lullaby

By Krishnam Raju Vegesna

I hear the songs of fallen soldiers,

the ones I've heard many moons ago.

The same they sang for your father—

those dishonourable chants of honour.

Son, tell me this is just a nightmare,

wake me, as you always do.

Bless me with a morsel of your courage

to breathe the air you no longer can.

I knitted you a sweater for this winter,

dried the fish, packed those pickles,

for our long overdue riverside trip,

the one you promised before you left.

But now, all I see are your brothers,

holding you in their blood-stained hands,

marching away from this hut, once our home,

singing the tales of your valor and nobility.

How noble is a motherland,

with a million mourning mothers?

How sacred is freedom,

if it bleeds from slashed throats?

My boy, before my clouded eyes lose you,

let me sing you one last lullaby.

The one you needed every stormy night

to feel safe as you held my thumb so tight.

‘’Oh, dear love of mine,

it’s just the rain.

Let not those rumbles and flickers

steal the smile off your cotton cheeks.

Oh, dear king of mine,

soon the sun will shine.

Worry not, you have me,

your one loyal soldier, come what may.”

There goes my boy,

my dream, my reason, my joy.

Son, I’ll be with you in no time.

Worry not, I stand by my word unlike you.

In that next dream of ours,

may we walk the lands of love and kindness,

in a world with no walls for wars to fight,

and may that world never hear a mother’s cry.

By Krishnam Raju Vegesna