Mother Lament

Tearing a raw piece of her flesh apart,
He carries on, A song on his lips, Hope in his heart,
Into the flame, A million plans to foil,
Voluntarily! That surprises me, For the discrimination of soil!

It was said to be, A gem of an occupation,
Of a few among the elite population,
The blood they'd spill would be over pages,
To be immortalised like the great sages!

Among the bravest, He fought with all his might,
For contumacious reasons, Supposedly his birthrights,
His comrades gone high above in wisps of smoke,
Like a single bullet scatters the humongous flock!

Her wait for Him like Atlas' wait for the end,
No glimmer of hope, No light at the bend,
The glorious burden, A tad more her nerves could bear,
Her fingernails dig deep into her flesh, She's overcome with fear!

The true son of soil, Marches till he breaks,
Her hapless cries resound over stoic lakes,
Futile furtive glances at the hand of God,
She is dismissed without as much as a nod!

To them, He just another unfortunate fool,
He gave up everything as their expensive wager's tool,
To her, he, a part of her soul,
She silently weeps away the death of her foal.........