Slain For Nobody's Gain Poem by Ravi Panamanna

In a faraway land
He perished at brutal hands.
Upon the Afghan sands
He left a tale unto the passing winds.

In search of life and springs
He was in those windy dales.
To meet a common man's dreams
He was steering life day and night.

And, it was a construction-
A road unto life and better horizons;
He was part of a team,
A driver, plodding a better stream

And, he crossed umpteen hamlets,
Sleeping alleys and silent inns;
He slept in open fields
And enjoyed many a twinkling night

Tarry he was by very breath
But not weary in his depth.
Life to him was a running brook,
Common mirth embraced his throbbing chest.

And, in moments of solitude
He wrote verses of life and her plentitude.
They embedded a bucolic mind
And the hues of life were well blend.

Musing thus in the distant desert
Lo! He perished in a vain moment.
For no reasons within human bounds,
He was held captive by terrorists.

They have no theory vivacious,
Their moves are often less precocious.
Beyond the voices of gun
They fail listening to a whispering glen.

In a faraway land, swindled by time
A man was tethered to the howling winds.
Upon the Afghan sands
His trail of blood throws a common question-

'Where is common man safe?
Where are his dales and last tavern?
Why for man is often hunted?
And what for he is slain for nobody's gain? '
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17/11/2012