He once fought against national traitors
Now he, himself, is branded a conspirator
His whereabouts is known only to his tormentors
Perhaps, he's now lying beneath the trees
Or rotting on some far flung rice paddies...
She is searching for him in the jails, the morgues
Crossing fast moving streams, deep gorges.
Carrying her child, panting, she trekked forth
Marching deep in the jungle, traversing large rivers
Chilly nights, pitch dark roads give her shivers.
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