The Unsung Soldier’s Return

By Manjari Singh

He was a martyred soldier on the ground,

Dressed in stitched uniform of sacrifice

Lay dead with a pool of blood all around.

He had a lot to say, through his eyes,

We saw it unfold in his silent goodbye.

He was twenty-one when he took his last breath,

Clutching pain and sacrifice came to an end

His still body now holds the truth;

A boy’s story, quiet, uncouth.

He planned a holiday to reach his home,

A nest where he could freely roam,

To hug his loved ones with a smile,

Embrace their fragrance, he missed for a while.

Wrapped in a flag, he reached his home

Where his sister and mother lived alone.

Cracks on his house walls had a song

With downpour, they also cried along

This winter he had to get them repaired

As he promised his mother, a rocking chair.

His sister once dreamt of earrings to wear,

a promise lost in the frozen air.

He must have left with a heavy heart 

With long list of unfulfilled promises on the chart.

With his remains, came a blue suitcase 

the dream he’d packed, the life he chased.

A boy so vibrant, evaporates as silent dust.

Who says in this world that wars are just?

A war that took away their home's light,

Only to offer endless sorrow, born of needless fight.

By Manjari Singh