Zahab Menorah Etopobong Poet Verse

Prisoner of War

Marching,
Foots strangling every strand of grass,
Arms breaking through the wind,
Hands changed into fists,
Eye sockets only fixed on a skull,
A barricade of unseen lines demarcates each group,
Sweat creates a path on their mundane skins
And their ‘Kaki’ sucks it up and having no hope
Of getting back to their wardrobe,
For it is heading to the battle ground
With its owner,	
To live,
To die
With him,
Whether he conquers,
Whether he suffers defeat,
Whether the innocent blood
On it is condemned to Hades or not;
Or whether it will be torn apart by bullets.
Bullets which will take its owners’ life too,
Bullets that will send him to hell,
To Hades,
To that dark auditorium
Where the commander,
The killer,
The killed 
Will remain.

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