Musings of a Martyr

As a child, I always dreamt
When the day was all gone and spent,
In the farthest recesses of my mind
Was a hope I cherished to find .
And still I do dream,
Yet, I'm not able to glean,
Have I realised my aim
Or is this an all-lost game?
Now, I stand, beyond all hope ;
Hunted and hurt, a tired antelope
Lowered its weary head
and on the waters of the lake it fed.
An instant later it was no more,
I pitied it till my heart was sore,
Then, I envied it, it's misery ended,
It's life, forever in Paradise, to be tended.
My own life and future was bleak,
In the horizon, I saw a streak,
Of light, Of hope, Of all that was good,
But, in an instant, nothing there stood.
Now I stand in No-Man's-Land,
Wherever I go, not a helping hand,
Not a soothing word to heal my soul,
I realise, with War comes things foul.
I envied those already dead
And others prostate on their deathbed,
Sighing and waiting for the last trip ;
I felt a trickle of warm blood drip,
The birds, disturbed,into the skies flew,
My innermost thoughts came true.
The hunter, to carve the antelope came barging,
War-siren aloud, the enemy came charging,
The first crack of the musket I heard,
I fell like a shot mid-flight bird,
Envy, wrath, sorrow, pain, pity, peace,
I saw the ground, white as fleece,
My life ebbed away like the tide,
I had only my pride ;
My hands writhing, my sight flickering,
I knew I had realised my dream.