From the crypt came the voice ...

I have never even read a poem truly, let alone write one. But when I started writing this blog I decided to experiment nonetheless. The result, as expected, is not good. But since I have written it, I am sharing it all the same. Those lucky enough, to get some meaning out of it, are admired and for the rest of the mortals I have given some interpretation / direction after the poem. Good luck for the ones who are still reading-

From the crypt came the voice,

Forgive me O Soldier, for I had this; but no other choice.

I had been dumb all these years,

Shouting my pain in those deaf ears.

In life I could have been a doctor or an engineer,

But it was not going to be; that was clear.

Not that I lacked an education,

It was more than that, which betrayed my passion.

Gone are the days, when they peddled in Dal,

The only sound you hear today, is the sound of lull.

I often saw the crowds roving by,

With desires unfulfilled and distress in their eyes;

The truth of freedom for me was nought,

A decent meal was my only thought.

Probably even that thought was not benign,

I had to fight to convey that aspiration of mine.

The stones hurled were only a means,

What more could I have done in my teens?

Only in death, I have been heard,

Unfortunately, violence was my messenger bird.

Now in the valley, the saffron will bloom,

The sun will rise up and swallow the gloom.

From the crypt came the voice,

O soldier, I wish I had some other choice!

The poem is set in the background of the recent events in Kashmir. The poet (i.e. me - ah! I feel like a narcissist) is trying to look at the situation from the eyes of a youth on the other side of the cannon.