The Price of Freedom: A Poem by Charu Kalra

Sullen emotions and sombre eyes,
Endless wait on the secluded roads and gloomy skies.
Back we wailed in fear,
And our desolate hearts bellowed in tears.

For he left without a whimper,
Undaunted by rugged terrain and ghastly winters.
Not deterred by tempests of life and ebbs,
Marched with pertinacity in his relentless quests.

Screech of the shells, sound of the canons and guns,
Melancholic cries of some lost battles, some won.
Soaked in his blood, combat, and boots;
He returned home with a million salutes.

Hapless pleas and bereft souls,
And echoes of the last words that he spoke.
A name lost but etched in memorabilia for the known,
He lay triumphant for the unknown.

With comrades and in honor of his nation,
Fought with ardor for its freedom and liberation.
For the one who had fallen with pride,
And the one who is forgotten, but he tried.