Prayer Of The Escavator Poem by desamangalam ramakrishnan

How silently the Bell tolls:
I see only the motion of the Bell's tongue,
And a ritual crow
That looks at the Bell
With a slanting eye.
Alas, dear one
You are departing downwards
Having no permission got
Even for the last kiss.
You are descending into the pit
Dug for you,
At last the Escavator
Stands with palms folded
And pinches some soil
And submits to your chest,
Then it abruptly covers you
With the raw mud of anguish.
Now in this pandemic gloom
Everybody has become untouchable,
But the time touches all by its toll.
It's needles go on
Ticking the unknown depths.