A Rose for My Warrior Mother

That august sun was sitting on the horizon

Showing off the auburn sky that it had painted

Illuminating the horror of that last august day

The popping guns and the cries of their preys,

Wailing, crying, screaming – terrors reign the air

Amidst them lay still my body in the tar black road

Silhouette by bloods that slowly turn auburn.

I lay there still in the auburn road

Waiting for the setting sun to touch the horizon

And burn the hills and light the night sky

For my mother, to come find me

And end the night, that bloody Monday -

Of crimson night, and shattered lives.

And there she is –my brave mother,

Untold loss and grief, scarred her sunken face,

Feeble and frail with no more strength to grieve

Yet she stands there mighty against the guns –

A helpless woman –illiterate, scared and lost

She stood her ground to marches on!

Day-in and day-out, she marches on

No time to waste –she can’t stop now

For she fight not for glory, fame or money,

But for the hearts, and the wombs –

The womb of the land that nurtures her;

And her children, the joys of her womb!

She marches on with thousand mothers

Into the abysses where all hope ceases

The battle cries of the warriors, filling the air -

My land, my sons; my home, my blood -

For my children –they scream and march

While their hearts bleed for their fallen sons!

And there I die, in mother’s arm,

We’ll be fine, she promises, we’ll be fine!

But I pray thee, kind kinsmen and strangers,

When you come to visit me in my grave,

Please also wept the tears off of my mother's eyes,

And give her a rose, for she deserve one!

Photo: www.zogam.com