Written by Apoorva Dixit
The week ended again
And the daily tally is getting worse.
The mere statistics,
Is somebody’s family.
And my heart chokes to even think of
How many of them have become
motherless or fatherless or maybe both
And how many have lost this battle.
“Plasma donors needed”, “urgent oxygen required”
My heart breaks every time,
When the phone rings, a child-like hope emerges that
It is no more the news of the devastation
Because I am tired of listening
And witnessing the despair.
The nights are full of grief
Which the heart buries every morning.
I can no more write about the romantic rains and rainbows,
Because all I have to offer now is black and white.
Life is just a game of binary and we are stuck in the game of lost and saved.
It’s going to be another day again but the gloom is even bigger this time,
Watching the tiredness and helplessness.
Losing the power to even bid a farewell
To all those we loved.
I don’t get nightmares anymore
Because I suffer from sleeplessness,
The last thing I saw before going to bed
Was a 22-year-old son begging for oxygen
So that his mom stops gasping.
The last sound I heard was
The whining of a women
Who lost her only one in the world.
So I get up at 3 AM,
And try to amplify resources.
I get up with a brave heart,
And a smile on my face,
Get ready to help,
To make an effort to save ones who are left
Hoping that maybe one day, one fine day
This will all end, and we will have happy weekends.
And maybe one fine day,
This war will come to an end.
Sadly, we aren’t in this together yet,
We are in the same waters
But not the same boat.
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