The Man I Love Is A Soldier
The man I love is a soldier
by Anusha Sreekant
When I tell you this you might ask me
If he is at the border
If I told you yes, you would go a little further
And tell me that you would be there
To support in my ordeal.
You might even tell me
How proud you are of the sacrifice
That he is doing for the country
Your words and movies and thoughts might weave
A fancy picture
Of the battlefield you never saw but think you know
You might describe with passionate resonance
And embedded pride
And a little prejudice
The deserts of Rajasthan or the glaciers of Siachen
Or of the sun glistening on the snow-capped mountains of Kashmir...
For you there is so much to say, friend,
Of beauty in the dingy camps and poetry of bullet fires
And of the colder company among barbed-wires...
But the man I love is a soldier
And for me, though I stay put in courage beyond your wildest compare,
Each time the radio screams of brave martyrs
Guilt and fear and pain rage a war within.