Three million gather for a dip in holy waters,
Blind faith, in a religious state, thrives,
They’ll drown in a river of tears by the thousands,
Saffron saints turned sinners, risking so many lives.
Politics – a game of liars,
Smoke and mirrors, to keep the throne,
Spewing venom and spitting fire,
Offering citizens as sacrificial pawns.
People run from pillar to post for help,
As loved ones run out of breath,
Meds and vaccines run out of supply,
Present remains the smell of death.
Families are ravaged by the virus,
There’s no space left to bury the dead,
With heavy hearts, we bid adieu in silence,
As hospitals and crematoriums run out of beds.
We hear the wailing of the sirens,
And see the pyres burning bright.
Crimes against humanity and violence,
Take place in broad daylight.
The air is full of fumes and flames,
Let’s each do our part to break the chain,
Give voice to the people, their agony and pain,
Where is the media and who’s to blame?
Online, strangers help amplify requests,
No dearth of needs or desperate affairs,
Lifting the burden off someone’s chest,
A ray of hope for the sick and scared.
Where worry, fear and frustration abound,
There’s also hope and love and care.
Compassion and kindness can be found,
To lift hearts filled with sadness, loss and despair.
Pooja Kumar is a co-founder at My Safe Place, an online platform offering therapy, support groups and workshops around mental health and emotional wellbeing. She often turns to poetry as an outlet for her feelings, drawing inspiration from nature and the news.
Featured image credi: Reuters/Adnan Abidi