He was born tall, energetic and muscular

His love and ambition unique,

The gun!

To carry and guard his country he vowed,

Yet he died,

Not from the shots of the gun,

But the rage of a friend,

Another’s gun!

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

A student so bright,

Dreams so high,

Toiled day and night to get an actual flight,

He never lived to enjoy the dream,

Burnt by another; the one he called brother, friend, comrade,

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

She was pretty,

From her walk to her talk,

The beauty oozing, irresistible!

Young soldier couldn’t resist her charm,

He couldn’t resist the urge to see her in the arms of another

too.

Because of only a hug to another man

The soldier shot her

Such a beauty, that lays six feet under,

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

Playgrounds!

Always full of life and laughter,

Yet this was deserted and haunted.

Spirits of the helpless children,

Young blood dripping from their hands,

The sacrifice to appease their gods,

Terrorists kidnapped them as a revenge

Drunk from a well so young,

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

They stood patiently,

Waited patiently,

They knew they made the leader,

He was such ripe a candidate.

Like a two headed snake,

He spat venom in all directions

Venom of all manner,

Tribalism, nepotism, corruption, hooliganism!

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

My father,

The man with the white collar, Bible in hand!

Noble upright man,

Now he lay, with a bullet between his eyes.

All he said was ‘NO’

Who will speak for the sleeping souls?

©Roberto De khalifa(Facebook)

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