Thinking Of You

…keep thinking of you…
I don’t regret that you have left.
It’s just the way you did.

It’s not that I am bereft.
It’s not that I didn’t try.

It’s just that I was dying
And you, actually, did die.

Death by O2

The pyres have been lit;
Like warning beacons, I say;
Yellow fire, on broken wood,
Wherein COVID victims lay.

They are wrapped in plastic;
No loved ones, no flowers;
Tired strangers have lit the fires,
They’ll burn but for a few hours.

“Sadgati!” Bhakts say, “not peace!”
They ignore the dead who died,
They replace love with hate,
They worship those who lied.

The pyres have been lit.
No oxygen brought their death.
Bodies light up like lanterns,
They were denied their last breath!

The gods must yet be appeased;
So rallies and melas abound;
We wait for the third phase now;
And the count of pyres in the coming round.

Sympathy

People have their own lives,

Updates become a due,

Death cuts down all time,

Then time must move on, too.

Offers of help get quieter,

(Thankfully in a way):

Sympathy visits for moments

It doesn’t intend to stay.

In the end, it’s always you,

While everyone falls asleep;

You lie awake and breathe

And dread to dream too deep.