IncompeTent WriTer

He was a part of the largest volunteer army fighting in the World War II. 

I knew him through stories and named him Brave. To date I call him by name. He was my granduncle. 

The fights, the fears, the casualties, the deserters, the martyrs, or the victory, he regaled none, for he was long gone before I was born.

I was told he left behind an uncle, the only son he fathered. For reasons less told, the boy got adopted at an age of naive. Blood remembered the ‘boy’ as an add on to his father’s tale. 

Soon death took the father by no surprise while the son lived miles apart from everyone’s mind. Blood obviously forgot both father and son. In time the son grew to be a fable. Moral of the story being- Stars do shine bright and you get placed in a home called right. 

With the death of the father, blood blamed fate and forgot the two mates. 

Photographs of my granduncle I have none. Stories courtesy my aunt and dad, I have in scarce. I wished to have met this man, the one who dug deep in my heart. 

Wounded heart weeps a silent cry

In seconds I see myself collapse

Lap of nothingness cradles me tight

As a mischievous stroke brushes by

I surrender

I surrender myself

Her thin smile blanketing herself in love

The pain of the past continued it's haunt

She walked the walk with no qualms for say 'now'

No hand of love, no touch of care, no 'one' to be the nobody of her hope

Understanding this perilous truth

Each day waking to

Watching me watching you

Have me feel why we swept away

The tilt                 the smile

Enough to wet me all

Now adrift

Have me wonder why we swept away

You stripped my guard

You in silence touched, abused

You kept me running even when I had you out.

For you glorified me in your shackles of love

Screams of pleas

Flaring disruption

I  decided to gulp and care less

For the flowers on the nest

Wounds across my breast

I ponder