Ruins and ruins,
The more I see,
Officers, brothers,enemies and friends alike.
Who did we die for?
The more I see.
The more I realize.
Petty issues got dragged too far,
and here I stand in a WAR.
Cries and shrieks,
The bombed bridge creaks.
Every bullet for every ounce of flesh speaks
I just hit the target,
Didn’t differ enemy or friend, I bet,
If any how this all could get better,
You would’nt be reading the silence of a martyr.
My old gun is smoked and burning.
I lost another brother round that turning.
I heard him fall down that aisle,
How I just want to tell him,
That I could do nothing for thee
If I would, even try, I am afraid
The next bullet would be waiting for me.
Oh all I feel is sorrow and regret.
Thats how a martyr’s life ends.
Garland twice a year on the grave,
Thats how they salute the brave.
How I wish I could tell my mother “I am here”
If only! Then you wouldn’t be reading the silence of a martyr.
Wounds have now stopped to pain.
Oh lord! How much I wish the rain..
To splutter on my lips,
To drain it all away.
The rivers of blood.
to the Holy Ganges!
The medals still shine.
through the drops of tear and rent.
My brothers fake a smile in vain.
but I know they are dying in pain..
there is no victory or defeat.
Its just you and red on the street
Right or wrong is left behind.
It isn’t about righteousness at all.
Its only about those who fall.
You cant survive the war,
cause even if you get far enough
it will haunt you all your life.
and make each breath tough.
At the end of the day,
battlefield is painted red in colour.
this is why , you are reading
the silence of a martyr.
Sahar (Mayank Mishra) – written on 24th January 2012