I Know, Do You?
I know a child,
Who with vacant eyes,
Sat looking at the door,
Awaiting a man,
To execute a plan,
Her 'partner in crime' for sure.
She kept staring,
Grumbling and glaring,
To hear the sound of her gate,
But what came next,
Was not the best,
And her father was never late.
He did return,
But in an urn,
Remains of a black coffin box,
He gave his life,
A supreme sacrifice,
It was that family's loss.
I know another child,
Both strong and wild,
A girl who never lied,
A cheerful kid,
Doing mother's bid
But with this pain inside.
When she was born,
Her family was torn,
She never saw her dad,
She only knew,
Her father through,
The stories others had.
She yearned to know,
What he was, so,
She decided to be like him,
To grow up strong,
Righting the wrong,
A warrior gentle and grim.
I know a wife,
Who all her life,
Has an aching pain,
Who starts from scratch,
With 'this' and 'that',
Learning to live again.
She plays her part,
She knows the art,
Of laughing when in sorrow,
Loving every second,
Of her existence,
Like there was no tomorrow.
She feels sad,
In fact very bad,
Whenever her tribe grew,
She feels the pain,
Experiences again,
Her trauma known to few.
I know a love,
That is above,
Any other fashion,
A feeling strong,
A yearning song,
A true heartwarming passion.
That truly starts,
In the hearts,
Of those who love their nation,
And in the uniform,
That they adorn,
Enroute final destination.
For those wearing,
White, blue or olive green,
As they journey above,
Returning wrapped,
In the national flag,
Thats passion, thats true love.
I know a pain,
In sunshine or rain,
Never losing steam,
Silent souls,
In distinct roles,
And empty, vacant dreams.
As phoenix rise,
With wounded eyes,
Showing off their scars,
Pain subsides,
It runs and hides,
Remembering martyrs and the stars.
Death never needs,
A reason for breeds,
To shed their skin and go,
Martyrs die,
For you and I,
Treat them with respect so.
I know a clan,
Of woman and man,
Who feared not for their life,
Who donned a smile,
Feeling worthwhile,
To serve both in peace and strife.
They love their nation,
With utmost passion,
More than the people in their heart,
Country first,
Family last,
They happily play their part.
They can be seen,
With their mean machines,
On earth or up above,
As guardians who man,
Water, sky and land
Or as angels up above.
Who with vacant eyes,
Sat looking at the door,
Awaiting a man,
To execute a plan,
Her 'partner in crime' for sure.
She kept staring,
Grumbling and glaring,
To hear the sound of her gate,
But what came next,
Was not the best,
And her father was never late.
He did return,
But in an urn,
Remains of a black coffin box,
He gave his life,
A supreme sacrifice,
It was that family's loss.
I know another child,
Both strong and wild,
A girl who never lied,
A cheerful kid,
Doing mother's bid
But with this pain inside.
When she was born,
Her family was torn,
She never saw her dad,
She only knew,
Her father through,
The stories others had.
She yearned to know,
What he was, so,
She decided to be like him,
To grow up strong,
Righting the wrong,
A warrior gentle and grim.
I know a wife,
Who all her life,
Has an aching pain,
Who starts from scratch,
With 'this' and 'that',
Learning to live again.
She plays her part,
She knows the art,
Of laughing when in sorrow,
Loving every second,
Of her existence,
Like there was no tomorrow.
She feels sad,
In fact very bad,
Whenever her tribe grew,
She feels the pain,
Experiences again,
Her trauma known to few.
I know a love,
That is above,
Any other fashion,
A feeling strong,
A yearning song,
A true heartwarming passion.
That truly starts,
In the hearts,
Of those who love their nation,
And in the uniform,
That they adorn,
Enroute final destination.
For those wearing,
White, blue or olive green,
As they journey above,
Returning wrapped,
In the national flag,
Thats passion, thats true love.
I know a pain,
In sunshine or rain,
Never losing steam,
Silent souls,
In distinct roles,
And empty, vacant dreams.
As phoenix rise,
With wounded eyes,
Showing off their scars,
Pain subsides,
It runs and hides,
Remembering martyrs and the stars.
Death never needs,
A reason for breeds,
To shed their skin and go,
Martyrs die,
For you and I,
Treat them with respect so.
I know a clan,
Of woman and man,
Who feared not for their life,
Who donned a smile,
Feeling worthwhile,
To serve both in peace and strife.
They love their nation,
With utmost passion,
More than the people in their heart,
Country first,
Family last,
They happily play their part.
They can be seen,
With their mean machines,
On earth or up above,
As guardians who man,
Water, sky and land
Or as angels up above.
