Sunday, February 10, 2008

A few dead men (from my book)

Behold the sounds of footsteps, creeping on you from behind,
A shallow growl of darkness – a mark of death – unsigned…
Shadows taking forms, crawling men with guns on their backs,
Shocking lights; Pungent smells; Eyes staring from the shacks…
Some near dead and dying men - screeching deep notes of pain,
And the Major at command shouts to take the bridge again,
We walk at night and hide at dawn, merry men of yesterday…
These eyes reflect fear and death, the dreams they held have gone away…
Gunshots; Running footsteps; Wounded men gasping for air…
Bleeding wounds, clouded eyes – is the vision that we share,
And the major shouts again, we run to take the bridge once more,
We struggle, fall and crawl again, like fishes dying on the shore,
The sounds of death go on and on; the end shall come – we know not when…
They shoot, we shoot – they die, we die; A win; A loss; a few dead men…

-Anubhav

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