Poets & Poetry


I am called by my nation
Not worrying what’s the situation.
For I exert for my land
To walk through fire and roll in sand.

Mama’s been excited for my birthday
Has always inflated the balloons of colours gay.
But my duty’s what I cannot pause
For happiness and her cause.

Dad has always warned
That I am not made to be mourned
But to sacrifice my hands, heart and head
Even if it meant my deathbed.

When I cuddle her in my strong arms
My allegiance is what alarms,
For the one who promises to be my other half
And nourish my little ones and make them laugh.

When my sister asks me to stay back
I feel as tormented as living upon a rack,
With even more grief I leave her
The one whom my childhood has nurtured.

In the rough jacket, cap and trousers
Not unveiling any sect;
With wounded scars and a mark of respect
I return from the battle with much more satisfaction
To be bestowed with my people’s love and devotion.