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POETRY ON NATURE

  • Few but all things will change

    Few but all things will change,
    after this night of nightmares ends,
    the way we looked at the world and now we do,
    the death that seems new normal will haunt;
    the path we mustn’t have taken,
    the dread of death must have been stopped.

    The boundary-wall of blood weaving its height
    and never looks down,
    the sprawling hands of death catching the light:
    an eagle who scavenge in town,
    Nothing to spare but to kill and drink,
    the blood of smiles, and flesh of hopes.

    This darkness in lights and everything seems bright,
    so bright to see them tomorrow and day after,
    the passing days and unbearable tides.

    The crushed tomorrow and cursed today,
    the night of deaths and moaning days,
    a death as dust and a thought embedded:
    nothing ever last is and it shall go,
    but imprinted on hearts will never fade away.