We shall not forget🖤

Trigger warning! Not to discriminate anything,anyone,anyform.

When sharpnel and gunpowder rain,

Time seems to move in a slow motion.

 

But the best poems have come from 

The dark trenches covered in

Piss,blood and the stench of looming uncertainty,

Running between certain death and 

The possibility of it.

Where godless men huddle up in bunkers,

Quailing at the sound of death nearing,

While they hastily write poems that have turned into

Obituaries since.

 

So tonight, as I walk through these

Dusty lanes of tenebrosity,

I realise this country is at war.

 

The sidewalk painted with pale eyes

And bellowing shrieks,

Haunted by an unseen ghost.

Mothers gasp,children mourn.

 

Hospitals paralysed with 

Flooded trains of fragility,

Bureaucrats rally promising utopia.

Justice is blindfolded and 

Pushed onto the streets.

Law-makers play hide and seek,

Disturbing lies to the naïve,

Like flavoured lollipops.

The cost of life open for birds,

The highest bidder gets to breathe.

Empathy hacked open to feed

Rabid dogs masquerading as 

Elected saviours.

 

The wind blows,the rats squeak,

The sun hides,the stars shinning bleak,

And people shoved into ovens

Like French quiche.

 

The air stinks.

The trees chopped,timber set on fire.

Priests chant,grey ash dispersed in the air,

Children breathe in

Their fathers,grandfathers

 

Politics divides our skin,

Women scream in dark alleys,

Money is made,economies crash,

Money is lost, capitalism smirks.

More luxury yatchs ,less spine.

Death creeps under unassuming sheep,

Chasing us through abhorrent cries of laughter.

Pilling mountains of bodies rot,

Faces sleep inside slimy drains covered in vomit and maggots,

Plastic monks of peace,pray.

 

When grief and helplessness rain,

Time seems to move in slow-motion.

 

But when time catches up and

You finally see the rainbow,

don’t wipe the ash off your face.

Till you tattoo the name of every life lost

On the arms of those responsible.

 

The best poems have come from

War-zones where god trembles to enter.

So let this poem be a reminder, 

An obituary for all lives we failed,

Lest we forget.

 

Well,guess what, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is, time. Which is not enough. All we have is, now. Make it count and help each other out. Tell people you love them,Unabashedly. Make art, splash colour, write poetry,click a billion pictures, be kind, smile at everyone, laugh like a madman even if the joke isn’t funny,make memories. All we have is a Life. Let’s overcome this together❤.

 

Until next time, stay safe, get vaccinated, be with your loved ones.

Love love

Sai Sriya.