Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recovery. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 11, 2021

Second Wave

 As I am sitting home testing positive for COVID, all i can think of is this virus. I am writing for the being hunted theme of Poets and Storytellers united. This Second wave has been devastating, so many of my friends and family are positive and admitted. Do your part and stay home and follow the lockdown guidelines and donate to those in need if you can. 




How do you run from a virus?

It is in the air I breathe,

The Food I eat,

The words we speak and

The fear we breed.

 

All I had to do was stay home,

But too late I have it now.

The second wave has crashed India

With a sickening spell

All I can do is watch,

Already infected,

From the comforts of my home.

While I watch my country be persecuted

By a pernicious pandemic,

Preying on the poor and the privileged  alike.

 

Virus does not discriminate,

But people definitely do.

While some of us stay at home,

Others beg for beds, oxygen and then some.

 

This is the time to for the former

Predator and prey to join hands,

Make astute amends &

Bring this pandemic to a hopeful end.

 

The third wave Is already waiting for us,

What are we waiting for?                          

Blames can be shifted after the fact,

Now is the time to act. 

 

 

Saturday, January 18, 2020

Bottle Tree



Alas! 
I am just a glass bottle hanging from a tree, 
oscillating in an orbit of pain
to the tune of my circumstances.
My emotions are somewhere sealed
inside that airtight bottle,
I think they are transparent
But ofcourse!
They are actually invisible to the onlooker.
And he asks,
What are you a glass bottle doing
clinging on to a bare tree?
I'm better off with my fellow bottle mates.
But once our paths collide,
Won't we just crash and break 
and let loose that noxious subtance 
which man calls love and
I call pain?

Friday, November 24, 2017

Unbroken Again


So post number #175 it is  


Unbroken Again



A cracked glass can’t be stuck again
That grandma of a person croaked.
We are in the age of Fevikwik and ready smiles.

So what if it is a plastered one
For the cameras?
They are better than fake candids atleast

The other day I realized
That my heart  got unbroken
I could feel only the feeling
That I couldn’t feel anything
And a twinge of sadness
 That I’m not a wailing idiot
His star crossed lover.

My smile used to be a band aid over a bullet hole
Now the hole is no more
And my smile is whole again
But then

Why do I still mourn the hole?