Frozen

I asked God the other day
Why didn’t I feel anymore?
Saw the boy asking for alms
I simply looked away as before.

Saw the drunk hurl abuses
At his poor woman and toddler,
Saw him raise his dirty fists
I only shook my head and murmured.

I came home, dehumanised
Sat down for the longest time,
The blood ran cold in my veins
I screamed but as loud as in a mime.

My little girl asks how I am
I only smile and pat her head;
Killed the urge to explain instead
The little girl in me is long dead.

Apathy yawns back in my face
Humanity stands naked stripped,
Your heart just as frozen cold
We greet each other with a loveless kiss.

The winter chill doesn’t even bother
As on my bed, darn numb I lay,
When exactly did I stop to feel?
I asked my God the other day.
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Anne Adarsh

Anne Adarsh is a radiologist by profession but finds herself repeatedly returning to her first love in all things. Poetry. A self-confessed Recluse also blessed (or cursed perhaps!), with an insatiable curiosity to learn new things, writing to her, means a landscape in her mind's eye, to which she can always escape to, whenever life closes in on her.