Alive To Tell A Tale. Poem by tharmingam khangrah

Glued to the addictive touch of life
I remembered my dear mother
When they pointed lead spitting machine to my forehead
Powered to smoke out brains and blood.
I saw angels and devils descending
To protest that it is unfair to play with life
But, human ears are not tamed to hear
Whatever a scared scapegoat breathes.

Looking back at those days
I often weigh the other side of what I could have done.
The landscape was strange and the night was dark
I could have run, but to be captured and skinned
For no reason except for loving my dear life.
All of us shivered to praise winter and fear,
When they asked whatever they wish
Making us look like talking machines,
Just to subdue our humanity
To make us carry their heavy loads.