The Box that Spoke


The camp wore a somber look

As the dark clouds of sorrow shrouded it. 

The waft carried the stench of smoke, 

Drenched in metal, blood and flesh. 


As the smoke settled, the boxes came alive, 

Wrapped in tri colour

And ready to go home, 

To the family that was always missed. 


The emotions at the courtyard, 

Were similar to the camp, 

Every breath was heard aloud, 

Such was the atmosphere. 


“Maa, I love you so much, 

You know that too. 

I am happy to give my life, 

To the motherland, it was my dream you know”.


” Papa, here I come to you, 

Your footsteps I did follow. 

I am sure we can play, 

My childhood games up above”.


“Did I feel the kick, my dear? 

Isn’t it the first time? 

Oh… I shall miss seeing the little one

But tell him or her, that I shall smile from heaven. 


You are strong like our motherland, 

Nothing can bow you down. 

My dear soulmate, my love, 

Please don’t break down… “


The box spoke loud and clear, 

And was heard by people near and dear. 

Covered with flowers, so plenty, 

His family heard him cry from beneath. 


Photo by The Good Funeral Guide on Unsplash


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