A Bleak lull loomed, hung by the frayed wind,
Smoldering lingering empathy,
Stale ethics, slain spirits; hurled away,
A din of horns, snaps of the burnt wood,
Unceasing, clamorous confusion,
Stench abound, dead bodies strewn around,
Wrapped corpse on pyres, last rites sans pain, gloom
Ravenous pathogen rampaging,
Mute mourning, quick exits- new nadir
This poem attempts to highlight the conditions of the crematorium in the post-Covid world. The mortuaries are bursting at their seams, and people are abandoning their deceased without guilt and remorse. The departed, just a number, lose their identities and the life they lived in the sirens of the ambulances and the crackles of the burning pyre. It’s a whole new nadir for humanity but still part of the new reality.
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