A soldier of the coming years...

Do we know how it feels to lose a loved one?
Do we know how it feels when nothing can be done?
Except bury the pain inside, and let the tears subside?
How does it feel when one night's journey seems the longest ride?

They plunged into the war, to protect their village, their dignity
Rode away into the desert, to face their deadliest enemy
Had to save their women, the adversaries were taking away,
And the children who's fathers they'd executed the other day

They rode on horses as fast as they could,
Laying a trap for the foes who were taking the loot
Attacked them with their best, with everything they had
With their swords, their rifles, on horsebacks, and white robe clad

Not the perfect match, against the enemy's machine gun
Still they fought from all sides, attacking as one
The adversaries they too were very well-prepared
All arms and ammunition they promptly bared

Our heroes fought bravely, driven by just one goal
To save the captive prisoners from perishing into a dark hole
With their war cry out loud, they attacked
Like mad men, they tore upon the enemy's pack
A bloody battle between them ensued
In that desert part, the one seclude

By the Grace of the Lord, they then overcame
The foes, they were all now a campaign tame

Then they returned back to the village in victory
Everyone rejoiced as the horse-riders returned in glory
People of each household rushed to welcome their men,
while others thanked HIM for the safety of their women

There were drums beating a victory beat everywhere,
The heroes were returning, there was glory in the air
With bated breath the womenfolk awaited their men
And seeing them, they ran to welcome and to hug them then

The children too, their tiny lips and their tender hands,
Praying for their fathers' safe return from the desert sands
And when each came back, his children rejoiced
The wife was thankful, her eyes were moist

All prayers seemed answered that day, but not little Ali's
His mother, she then began dreading what it is
At last his father's white horse it returned
But atop it, was no white-clad figure to be discerned

Only one horse returned empty that hot afternoon
And the little boy just couldn't figure out why
Although two dry monsoons have passed without a boon
He stil can't understand what made mamma back then cry

His father he thinks, is still somewhere far away
Fighting with the enemy, or gathering lambs gone astray
His mother has now learnt to hide her tears
Since now he is to become the soldier of the coming years...

—Abd elAzeez