“That is the place where the gallants lie.”
The guide of the heritage walk announced.
So ill kept, not maintained, so strange!
I could hear my own voice resound!
“We shall pay our homage from here,
Standing outside the gate.”
“Oh my God!” Blurted out a little boy,
“This is in such a dilapidated state!”
The war memorial flooded with
Rainwater, overgrown with grass.
Mossy, uncared for nobody
Seemed to ever pass!
No anemone ever grows there,
A lily never blooms!
Weeds and wildflowers
Intensify the gloom!
This is what war brings.
Devastation to one and all
Wives widowed; children orphaned.
Utter annihilating squalls!
All they become is history
That people seldom read;
The valiant lay their lives.
Their sacrifice, silently bleed!
Years later their resting place
Is a mere heritage walk
No wreath, no Chrysanthemums
Offered on their graves
About them people seldom talk!
Madhu Gangopadhyay, MA English Literature, Bachelor of Education. An educator, a content developer, soft skills trainer and above all a passionate poet and a writer. I love to pen my thoughts and musings at random moments. My penchant for mythology is often found in my works.