His camouflage struck me the most, <br />As he lay with his face down, <br />In a river of murky water, <br />Murkier by his blood. <br />Far away a little boy smiled at his mother, <br />Not knowing grief on their heels. <br />Who did he fight for? <br />Who did he die for? <br /> <br />His masters camouflaged their dreams, <br />And flashed his hope before him. <br />They lay before him the targets, <br />The source of all his woes, <br />Like a magician pulls out rabbits from his hat, <br />Like the ads display discounts, <br />And he buys them readily. <br />Where are his colleagues moving to? <br />They see through his body, <br />There are no flowers to decorate, <br />No white linen to wrap, <br />They pick up what they can, <br />Pack up their backpacks, <br />Walk away like zombies to the battle next, <br /> <br />They wept inside, <br />But felt omnipotent outside, <br />They could take lives, <br />But not sip coffee with their dear ones, <br />Widow women and rape them, <br />But not touch their wives sleep serene <br />Orphan children and abuse them, <br />But not join their children pillow fight, <br />Raze to the ground cities built over centuries, <br />But not play cricket in their neighbourhood, <br />All for someone's plastic dreams, <br />And their own hopeless hopes.<br /><br />Saju Abraham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-camouflage-2/
