Zombies From Pulwama

Another mother’s heart is weeping

While her son lay dying;

His body parts torn apart

A severed leg and an arm lay scattered,

That’s what remains of my dying soldier.

What kind of death is this?

Can we give his family justice?

When his family gets to see a part of his body mutilate...

By saying his missing parts the terrorists ate?

By giving him a regular paycheck!

The nation has bought his body this day for;

A soldier’s body is not his body anymore.

Whom do we blame? Can we live in denial mode by blaming terrorists,

while politicians enjoy fame

And yet live to play the political game?

How many more of our brave sons need to be sacrificed and how many more should live in fear?

Do we remember?

How Rome used to keep quiet during the sacrifice of its gladiator?

He was more than a soldier, 

He was some one’s son, somebody’s brother, a child’s father.

Realize this for a moment...

Along with terrorists, Politicians should be held responsible

For my soldiers’ death.

Everyone’s vote counts...

Today somebody else’s son has died and become a part of memory;

Tomorrow you can be the victim or become a zombie.