They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile

These road on which we stand today
Were built upon layers of stone
And skulls of warriors great
This freedom wasn’t free
Of cost. Their debt we must pay.
Each and every day.

Two brothers fought
None won
Both lost
Freedom exacted a dear cost

As the clock struck twelve
On that August day
From heaven the martyrs cried
Their dream
Their struggle
For which they died
Was finally realized

The dawn was breaking
It was history in making
The charkha of time had turned
After so many years
A nation was waking
Up

I have been writing poems
As if I am forging my own armor
Yet it seems that what I have made
Is more than just a hefty covering
But layers of sky-piercing barriers
And armies of unfamiliar soldiers
With their faces reflected in mine

Yet with all these defenses
It still won't be enough

For the words I bleed fail to nourish
The wise owl I aspire to become
And the weakest of the weak
Isn't invisible behind thick walls
Nor will he ever be invulnerable
To the crippling echoes from outside
And to the storms he sewed himself

But as I am doomed to break
I will always be bound to fall as well
Down the rabbit hole of poetry

Unspoken words
stretched between phone lines;
Awkward pauses and silent tears.
No one is sure what’s wrong
Or how to fix it.
But we both feel the pain.

The miles are vines;
Strangling our voices.
Severing the connection between us;
That for so long relied on senses that are no longer available to us.

Time is a cancer;
Rotting our confidence;
And consuming the strength we’ve built together.

We are more polite;
Less informal.
Straining the tenuous foundation of our crumbling peace.

There was a time when your very breathe was a comfort to me.
I knew each beat of your heart
as if it were my own.
But we are strangers again.
I’m lost and alone,
Searching for you in a place I have never been before.
I’m unsure how to find you;
Or even if I’m looking for the same man I lost.

Three years ago, I signed up for the army,
I trained hard every single day just like Rocky,
Whilst i was waiting for them to get back to me.

But when they looked up my medical history,
They were forced to reject me, unfortunately,
Because I suffer from iron deficiency.

Perhaps if i was not born with this diffculty,
I'd most likely  be serving this great country.

Forged in a fire of brotherhood and violence;
Branded and tempered,
you are  called to service.

You step to the front;
relinquishing your home
and dawning the armor of duty and honor.

You feel your heart beat and you know that the tempo does not belong to you.
Your very breath contracted to the country to which you offer your allegiance and life.
Who casts you forth to a world that neither knows or cares who you are.

Who will remember you when this is done?
Who will know what happened here?
You are a piece of a whole;
Parts welded together by the hell that burned you up together and molded soldiers out of the ashes.

And as you kneel before the field of battle;
You take courage in the boots beside you.
You pray because you know that the ultimate sacrifice is not always made by the soldiers who die.

19 OCT 2020

Kymie

And now come the other men,
The figurines, the foragers
And those who marched
Onward
By the failed evergreen. They
Speak of war grown days,
And times before the land
Was tore. Their voices
Shrouded
By one anothers’ patience, and
Each man carried his scars,
Cradled,
In their shadowed
Limblike arms, they bore
Tear marks
Printed
On their gormless
Salty cheeks, and
Under their heavy
Sullen eyes
Paraded gashes
And stains
Of crimson and bleak.

And now come the other men,
Out of the ovens, rushing
For some safer housing.
It’s all a conundrum, this
Waiting and wavering, an
Uncertainty
Mounted across a ditch
Of slightly burnt
Flesh, men mashed
Into one.

And now come the other men,
An identity shared
Between friends, who bask
In the untimely forgery
Of their postured
end.