Sikh Warriors

None of us had left our home country before

None of us knew we were going to war

The boat, the boat

I’m going to be sick

A country called France full of curious stares

Not used to brown skin and turbaned black hair

Eyes forward, eyes forward

Don’t look

We left towns behind for a desolate land

Only silence, or a white officer’s reprimand

The silence, the waiting

I’m sick with it

Army issue helmets we left in the mud

We had our turbans, our belief in God

We unravel them

And litter stray bullets

Bullets, screams, blood – inhumane battle

Hiding, waiting, penned in like cattle

Deathly

The mud is deathly

They somehow got us into this; we have to get us out

We’re fighting someone else’s war we know nothing about

They invaded us

We have to fight for them

We’re waiting for death, waiting for attack

But we know that there’s no use in thinking like that

After the silence

The world explodes

There are graves and monuments for those who lost their lives

There was no consolation for those who lost their minds

Sleep like comas

Eternal night

Founder of the Khalsa

Let's see how did he form the