Mira Midha


These Times....... - Poem by Mira Midha

A bullet here…it has no name on it
Yet it hits….
A mother, a father, a child
And many others shattered
With their heads in their hands
Asking why
Among an agonizing cry.
A blast there….. Fragments, shards
In wreckage, there is no identity,
It is in this rubble
That there is insanity.

These times have left me fraught,
With a slow fading of reason
And I have sought
Answers in trying to find a way
What really is the world trying to say?
Spilling word and acts of loathe, lingering in hide
And at times I die a little inside.

The world needs a prayer,
Not in words but in feel,
Every tear has salt,
Every drop of blood is red,
Now souls need to heal.

May lie gently wrapped on a pyre,
Or be laid to rest in a casket,
So…. Of you and you and you
I ask if…..
We shall return to the earth
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
In this there is equality
Then why as we stand in life,
There is a difference in identity?

Topic(s) of this poem: world conflicts


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Poem Submitted: Monday, November 23, 2015



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