Short Calenders Poems

You are not a stranger to me.

I know of how you
made your life a bed of 
bends and turns to heroism

The inks of your writings
are of the life of your flesh,
birthing immortal words.

I know how your name
runs down the throat of school children
and calenders bore your honour
While you left, and fed your mother with hunger
and daughter that you held dear to heart.

I know you brother,
and him, whose footsteps you followed,
Your father....

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