Page 57 - MAY Poetry Anthology
P. 57



                                             THE CREATURES OF THE
                                                  DARK NIGHTS

           We are now confined in our own Quarantines
           The home has become as if a cage of birds
           We are imprisoned in it like behind the bars
           Scared beneath the horrible shades of fear
           Waiting and counting down for our turns

           Afraid and baffled,
           Aloof from the maddening crowd
           Half-dead and feeble
           We have become tired of reciting
           The elegies of our dear ones

           The darkness whose food is oxygen
           It squeezes the last bubble of oxygen from the body
           It leaves making a man a dead body
           In absence of oxygen within a few seconds
           A person, going out in want of light, in the morning

           Becomes fed off of life by the evening
           Turns back his face from life and his family
           Collects the wrapped body from the mortuary for
           The last rituals of cremation or burial
           Under the Covid-19 protocol

           We are passing through such an endless dark night
           Which does not seem to be finished
           We have been, one by one,
           Being the part of this thick darkness
           We are that much helpless and feeble
           We don’t have even ammunition
           To fight with our invisible enemy

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