The gentle cool breeze,
The swaying of the trees,
The light clouds in the sky,
Hiding the sun behind,
Lulls you to feel all is good
On this earth; but is it?
The storm rages within, tidal waves
Of thoughts, uncontrollable tears.
So many ailing. Familiar names,
Loved ones, no more; shocked
Pining relatives, despairing progeny.
Trying their best, striving for aid,
Ambulance, oxygen, hospital beds,
Yet left to mourn, beat their heads, in vain.
Recalling mythology, end of Kalyug?
Is this Pralay as predicted,
To rejuvenate existence?
No enormous demons to vanquish,
But an ugly tiny invisible enemy,
Wreaking havoc, causing
Infinite sorrow. Annihilation, culling?
Survival of the fittest? What is it? Is
2021 prediction of Nostradamus true?
No sword brandishing avatar seen
But unsung hero helps unknown, even as
Human bloodhounds heartlessly thirst
For more, as agonising cries rent the air
Pain unites, as Science saves,
mind strengthened, work concertedly
To defy the foe, forge a bond, rebuild lives.
Time to rectify, revitalise, revamp
Personally, nationally, globally, for earth
To heal, breathe, survive, flourish.
Is there light at the end of the tunnel?
When will it be visible? When? Scared,
Petrified, sending wordless Prayers,
On our knees, folded hands, bowed heads.
Shared by- Prabha Raghunandan
