D: Death-toll: Comfort

on

There are no opioids here, 

No wisdom to be shared.

The bitterness of the pill

Is directly proportional 

To your love for everything 

Human. Which is not always 

Lovable. Yet there are people 

Who hold our hearts

Those that we think of and 

Wish to keep safe. 

Alas, the virus has no country 

or calling. It moves among us 

As with those we love. 

How can you ‘be safe’? 

What is safety, then

Protection for the privileged few

You have allowed in your life? 

And a sense of relief

When you see the dead 

Are not yours? 

But they are gasping for breath,

Dying in droves out there

Those unknowns, 

Also someone’s mother, son

Father, daughter, wife? 

I flounder and flail

While you argue conspiracy theories

And rail. Against the dying of a sun. 

Do not look to me for comfort, 

I have none. 

4 Comments Add yours

  1. CRD says:

    To me, this poem depicts us humans the way we are…capable of selective care and devoid of empathy.

    Well written Ipsita!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ipsyb says:

    Thank you! How have you been? Stay safe!

    Like

  3. Vishal Bheeroo says:

    This poem expresses so many aspects about life and the invisible foe.

    Like

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