Brother, are you cold and hungry?

It’s five past four in the morning
and the sound of silence echoes through the streets
The air smells different and strange, feeling like a tragedy.
I could only hear the raindrops falling on the tin roofs,
lulling everyone else to sleep again
Dark clouds on the wastelands, storms on the plains again
“Brother, are you cold and hungry?”
I took a deep breath and close my eyes
I could see my band of brothers on patrol
The grin on their faces tell me they were cold
but they still pulled a fierce front
Their knees could give way any minute
but they stood still against the bite of the cold winter wind
Their boots submerged in a pool of muddy waters,
their feet must be numb and icy cold
Their woollen jackets lie cold waiting for them at home,
the blankets on their beds are losing their scents
as the wait gets extended each time.
I know there’s an awakening and a revolution but mine eyes have seen my brothers bled enough while I sleep tightly at night
Their bodies have gone through the worst, scars and wounds for a lifetime.
How could anyone ever know of the price paid by my brothers in terror,agony and bloodshed if one had never been to places like the Eastern front,
the Southern front, the Northern front and the Western front?
Our hearts may keep on bleeding while we’re waiting
But by the Grace of God,my band of brothers will come home again
And we shall watch the earth shake as our Nation arise
Where the weak are finally strong and the righteous right the wrongs
A Nation where you and I belong.