The Sarin Of Tuesday Poem by SANJIT MANDAL

The white baby is masked
The butcher is lying flat
The moustached old man fumbles
The lady over there moans
And the evening walkers have just stopped,
For what? ? They are made to.
Do you know why? ? ? ? ? ?
Coz a hole is there on the pavement,
But what does it mean? ?
Just a hole, ha? Let it be.
Do you know how is this made?
You don't, I know, Yet
Pretend you to be aware of ….
How could you! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
You know what
I am the omnipotent one
Seen it……saw it……see it coming…
Oh no! ! What have they become?
How have they transformed! ! !
What are they? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Devils, beasts, barbarians, cannibals, blood suckers,
And how many synonyms for them? ?
No, no, no I can't…..how could i….
Surrendered I am to them…..
Saw the engine hovering over
Switches controlling the target,
All silent they were
Communicated in whispers
Inaudible to me even,
Yet I knew what they were up to…
What could I do?
Maybe I was intoxicated,
Was too sleepy
Drinking poison of humanity,
They are shattered now
Have lost the roads
Darkness has covered…….
They Hear thuds...are moving to and fro….
But nobody has time.
Damn busy they are
In the forests, the oceans, the mountains
Building crumbling walls,
They don't hear the cries,
Don't feel the pain,
But lecture like emperors
Obscuring the reality…..
An illusion is created like the gas
That has spilled the blood of conspiracy,
Who is to blame?
As the dead bodies lay there.
Asked for my help
When they were alive
But my limbs are lifeless
Confined here I am,
Let them change themselves.

(Context: - the chemical attack in Syria on April 4th,2017.)