When Your Smouldering Round Bullet Pierce My Fragile Heart?

My tall brother soldier!
If your rusty gun is a guitar
Then people won't die in vain
and they listen to your
melodious voice!
But your rough fingers
The Warlords,
they trained you purposely
for the trigger
and not for strings?
My little brother soldier!
When your smouldering round bullet
pierce my fragile heart
Do you hear that
painful dying song of your father's voice?

to the Irish poet William Butler Yeats!

nimal dunuhinga

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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