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May 15th, 2026
by Sandeep Singh Madan
Spick and span and well dressed, A tidy room, waiting for some mess. Decades of hold without a bend — Where's the master, where's his scent? No anecdotes, no midnight hails — The pillow speaks his anguished tales. Rosary beads in fragile hands, chanting prayers to the holy man. A crying heart with a fading flame, seeing her son's shadow in a photo frame. A rising storm in the sands, a pleading whisper from his motherland — and the son disappears unmanned. Waiting for her lover, decades cold, Like dinosaurs extinct, a fossil soul. Rejecting rumors the universe spread, Remembering promises in seven lives' thread. Casting feelings into the ocean's dread, My man will come; he's not dead. It's 3 a.m. and sugarcoated rain, sleeping in cozy house — all in vain. Oh, selfish Mortals, have some shame, there is someone's son in the sandy strain, stamping last letters with a bloody stain. with his childhood dreams buried in shrines, The immortal fossil becomes divine.
About the Poet
Sandeep Singh Madan resides in Jalandhar, Punjab, India.
Read the poet's biography and Wax Poetry and Art publications
on Sandeep Singh Madan's Artist Page.
This poem is also featured in Comet #8, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Keywords: military, military family, Republic Day
Previously published in India Poetry Magazine:
The Love I Didn't See, But Always Felt
by Aswini Krishna
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