The sound that grumbles in my ear
are not the voice of song or odes
It is the deep pain of those in fear
out of their home and onto street
No one knows the grave reason
for this disruption and this commotion
yet going through this season
deepened in sanguine ocean…dead
permeated smell of blood on floor
someone, anyone, lets get forward
try out something, anything new
ask the killers to stop their bullets
“let my people on land live!”
the surly fever wraparound me
I hold a pen in my weak fingers
covered in shivers of shrouded cry
asking for kindness to smile.
Contributed by: Shakti Shetty, Sanpada, Navi Mumbai, India
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