Who wages, in the, wuthering wild
A male-volence, baptized, by gore
This, vengeful warrior, once, my child
Ain’t, more than, manhood’s metaphor!
Who winced, at wounds, now plays, with death
Has he, found, life’s, profound dimension
Is to, endure pain, in its, every breath
And redeem, faith, from, fear’s conviction!
He trampled, on my, pleas, to stay
To be, vain martyr, in, whose war
Fistful, of, brinkmen, who, make you, slay
Who were, your brothers, once, next door!
I live, with, half, a hope, he will come
For, “I won’t fall, I will, vanquish all”, he swore
At the crossroads, of, patriotism
I chose, grief galore, My Son, Chose War!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra