I Spoke to Soldiers

I spoke to too many soldiers,
You’d never know the exact record;
We still had lunch and then the enemy,
Forced into slavery of the army,
Been war-prison, been godliness of speech,
Never been superior officer or general.
My reward was in the favour of heaven,
And the language I possessed connived the house to live in.
To be a civilian was wrongful then good,
As deities shall mind afterwards,
Gods bespoke their dread, and dealt with cards
To be defeated by my hands and feet.
I see the comrade of zeal in a jail
And wanted him out, just out.
We face squalor in the system of a world in war,
Never do soldiers become heroes when in action.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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