75 days.
Each day
brings with it a new burden, an added apprehension.
Grief layered
with guilt.
A simmering,
unspoken rage.
At the
silence.
The glaringly
obvious apathy.
And a seeping
exhaustion that has sunk into the soul, into the bones, the very fabric of our
collective beings.
When and
where will all this end?
Not any time
soon as is evident from the powers that be, through their conscious deliberate
act of doing and saying absolutely nothing, instead choosing to remain defiantly
blind, deaf, and mute to the plight and sufferings of thousands.
Perhaps the
intent has been just that.
This cloak of
indifference to brow beat us to the point where we will accept anything just
so that we do not have to deal with it anymore.
And on days
like these, it feels like they might just be winning…
A Season In Hell
Grief belongs here
Settled in
Ensconced within
Guilt knocks on the door
I peep, afraid
Ashamed to let it in
Despair, a deluge
Delusions, dark dreams
Days darker still
Longings pensive,
Flitting, fleeting
Wispy, weepy wails
Macabre, massacre
Gore, gory mayhem
More still, the meiras’ din
Frenzy and furor
Fissures and Fuhrer
Sieg Heil,
A season in hell,
Grief, guilt,
Fury unabated,
No answers still…
~ Judith Vaddi
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