It's luck or choice
to be a soldier,
For a mother,
is a difficult question.
Her piling up pain
she masticates,
Since her son
braved at the border,
And after much toil
he couldn't survive.
It's an enterprise
for the whole family,
And for her
a great sacrifice for the nation,
Wrapped up with
selfishness and corruption.
Who knows her own desert
Where blossoms will never bloom?
Who cares of her eyes,
Catching his face in the air,
Vanishing in a blink of an eye?
Who thinks of his wife and children,
Rebuilding the broken walls
of their house?
Is being a soldier a wrong turn
At the particular intersection?
Is being a soldier honest devotion?
You could offer your two cents.
Your right.
Her right? Her happiness?
Her life?
Luck and choice
are chalk and cheese.
Life travels through
rough stones, a pause.
But living such a life is a forgotten tragedy.