PATRIOT

when i saw him for the last time,
wrapped in the Indian tricolor,
soldiers were carrying him on their shoulders,
I felt my heart divide.

with 21bullets fired in the air,
endless tears fell down my cheeks,
I stood numb in the hour of this deed,
but with my head held high..

his passion was his country,
and his dreams were of his motherland,
now lying motionless in the hands of his own people,
still looked divine.

his green attire was his destiny,
and the medals were his future,
now placed in the coffin,
looked peacefully pristine.

Raza was strong as he was my brother,
and me as Zara is the only one left for him.
suffered with a bullet on his iron chest,
died with the hands of his own religion.

Kashmir was the place from where he started,
and Kashmir was the place where he met his end.
today is the special day for him when,
he met with his God the shortest way.

how he died is not the question,
why is the answer to all queries.
nationality or religion?
his murderers thats what i can say.