Existence of Identity.....

As I lay chained down, low on the groveling dust,

My freedom curbed; my wings dreary and parched with heavy shackles.

An ounce of freedom, a long lost dream.

Flightless and tired, I stare at the half paced imagination of arid tears.

I hear half chocked voices harking my name, still unclear, unable to comprehend the semi audible frequencies.

Was it not my uncles…and brothers…and close comrades?

Still soaring mightily above the ocean clad clouds..singing drearily as they  heed our identity.

But how could i? Who has been marred with suffering, veiled through shadowed oppression…

Hopes degraded, dreams faded, …

A century of old glory and famed for the fearless errands,

The soil still drenched with my ancestors sweat and blood.

The atmosphere, that once trembled with the hue and cry of this “flightless warrior”.

Could I soar again?

Could I reclaim the long lost identity of the eroded pasts…that long lost honour?

Could I once again, spread my wings and fly?

Could I once again recover and float fearlessly through the blood stained sky….