Mask it up


Artist - Angelina Bambina (Shutterstock)


I feel for the dead

rising from their sleep;

I fear for the world

dreaming still, its elaborate

projects all coming to a

standstill, as the hospital beds

are filling up;

I can hear the

howling ambulances

on the streets outside;

humans are quarantined

and there is a dread in every eye,

a feeling rises up in my throat,

the barking dogs, chirping birds;

a miracle, yes, still ring hollow.

I stare out of this window of

Doom, and emerge into an isolation

not knowing if I was ever ready

to face a question,

that had no answer,

only instructions on

every screen,

only eyes, no faces,

only spaces, no places;

the idea

of a future, reduced to a set of

strange moments, in human

captivity;

they tell us not to panic,

they ask us to wait for good news,

a green board on an unhealthy house,

a planet in the clutches of apocalypse

no religion to cure this,

no mob chanting to wash hands,

no one, nothing,

it is all that goes on in our minds,

disinfect,

distance yourself, for humans can distance

themselves, from each other yes,

but not

from an idea, not from a self-created future

of distress,

a lesson for us in every hospital

bed,

a deity for us in every white coat,

hope for us in every scared breath,

who will face the rising sun of tomorrow?

Who will never face it again?

For who can decide the value of life, in a split second?

In the gravity of shifting scenarios,

who amongst us will be next? Nature or humans?

Can we wait for an answer before it’s too late,

think my friend,

think for that is all you can do today,

who knows where we are tomorrow?


A Night Owl original, this piece has been authored by Yastika Sharma.

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