Missing in Action ....

Legs broken, arms twisted behind my back,
I lay as a mangled piece of flesh in a butchers shop!
People look at me like 'm the icon of hatred,
Cuz from the skies i dropped!

The very ebbing of my life stirs my senses,
Only to realise the spreading numbness.
I'm being drawn deep and fast into trenches,
with stenches of the past and the sweet smell of future!

I dont even have the time to thank for the future,
As the numbness is complete and through.
I lay there helpless as a heap of food,
For the vultures not of flesh but of beliefs.

I will be mentioned as missing in action,
In the papers of the morrow with words of praise.
I will be mourned for my bravery and valour,
My name will be printed in books as "Hero of our days"!

I rot in this hell-hole as my brothers walk past me,
Ignoring me, for i wore the clothes of the enemy.
They search for me in the rubble where i'm not,
They write my name in a piece of paper as MiA.

Principles that kept me from telling them the truth,
Were not the ones that saved me from the jaws of death.
It was the enemy who wanted a brother alive and well,
Who draped herself over me to protect me from being reached.

I survive and live to the tell the story of the gory past,
But words fail me, who am i to be faithful to?
The land that gave me birth and sent me to the enemy,
Or the enemy who saved me from my own brothers?

I am missing-in-action and i live, live like one of them,
I am missing inaction as i join hands in their toil.
I like the sun that burns my skin as i till their soil,
Its the same sun that shines in warm splendour over my land!

- The Crooken Pen