Regrets of true liberators

By Atok Dan

You did lay it to rest

The mammoth, the heft task though you cry

Your selfless sacrifices are immeasurable

You generation of waste,

You died, amputated but never given up

For you silenced wailing of orphans

Your children, the posterity of future

Your widows, the custodians of love  

The cries of liberator

Regrets of true liberators of liberation,

For they have forgotten you

For your reddish pigment nourished the soul of pride

the bowl of soup,

the tray of bread,

And the spoon of lust and greed

For you bartered them by your blood

The blood of wasted generation

He did take it, the pride of past

Little that did he belabor to claim it,

it is hijacked

Harvesting the fruits of your labor

You wasted generation

He took it, twisted it

For if the silver head is brought back,

the bald headed

For he will forsake the pride of his labor

For he will curse his death,

For he is coiled up decently in final rest

In loggerhead,

They turned your pride into theirs

Inheritors of pride,

Your pride

Cries the braved men of liberation

For the hijacked mission

Not even peeled off the fruits is yours

It is theirs, the inheritors of your work