What was the cost of our blood?
That stained the battle fronts across our lands?
Were we just like everyone else?
Just fading footprints on our muddy shores?
Have we been forgotten so quickly?
Were we just victims of the madness?
What was the gain of our skeletons?
Questions from our lonely homes
Voices through the ghostly breeze
Will we ever get answers?
Where are the fruits of our war?
Was the tree felled when we closed our eyes?
Did it wither at our demise?
Has our tragedy become a myth?
What are the gains of the orphans?
Flowers on their daddies’ gravesides?
What are the gains of the widows?
A minute silence for their loving husbands?
…..what’s the frenzy from the distance?
Are our children summoned to war now?
Aren’t they the children we bled for?
Echoes from the creeks, questions from the woods
Questions and more questions……
Will we ever get answers?
Where are our guns and armories?
They are the heroes of our war
They tell our tales, we breathe through them
They are the only survivors.