Arise My Pen

My Covid struck pen lay supine

dust settled my desk held its weight

This pen has recorded the Hero's exploits,

measured the hooves of the charging stallions

and also the tears of the victims

described the gold dust flying

from the flails of invaders

Golden temples and silvery moons

have fallen, lay covered

under the debris of time.

Today my pen coughs, sneezes

the ink flows in droplets of pain,

the masked men heaped like rotten

fruits are thrown into ditches

for feasting magpies to damnation

wherever I look I'm beaten by

the whimper of helpless men ghostlike

covered from top to toe

as if shrouded mankind

hides its history in shame.

Where do I find my Love

the promising saviour

the vaccine for torn lungs!

Is he headed towards inferno

searching for Beatrice in hellfire!

O' my pen, my long night's dawn

rise up, call him to kill this Corona

and sing of man's new history.

Sabita Sahu