Friday, November 24, 2023

Thoughts Chafe At My Memory...

 Thoughts Chafe At My Memory...


The year 2020 crawled, devouring many lives

Recollecting, I find it difficult to write

Each morning the death toll rose

Wrapped up bodies in plastics draped over rubble, 

Banged into each other. Bones and blood sweetened the scents.

It was the time for vultures to toss bodies in air like rag dolls 

And carry them towards Van Gogh’s  Starry starry night.

Dark, hungry eyes darted between the branches, 

Flew piercing sanguinary darkness …

Loved ones crawled under the shadow of those big flying wings


My eyes joined those thousands….

Watching that slow, inexorable flight!



Sharing this at...What's Going On,  where Sumana's prompt on 

8 comments:

  1. Panchali, you have captured the ominous feeling of that covid year so well - the hungry eyes, the shadow of those big flying wings..........here in Canada, covid numbers are rising again but people are not paying attention, or taking steps to reduce exposure. Everyone got covid fatigue, but covid is not over.

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  2. Panchali,
    Those images watched on TV from around the world, were absolutely dreadful. The toll upon communities, as families counted their individual losses.
    I don't think we'll ever forget the impact that COVID19 had upon ourminds. Unfortunately, long lingering memories...

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  4. A powerful write, Panchali. Such descriptive, vivid, frightening words. An awful time, with so many deaths. What a nightmare for all. Your words brought it all back! And Covid is still with us.

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  5. Dreadful memories indeed! We had lost quite a few friends and acquaintances then. Everyday was a heartbreaking day. You've captured the fear and the sadness of loss vividly. Thank you didi for joining us today.

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  6. I'm trying to remember 2000, and though your words take me there, and I gasp, I can only think of 2020 when covid swept across the land exactly like "big flying wings," and the details were gruesome. Your images! Such horror is beyond expression and yet you captured "the show" beautifully, in all its horror, in this poem. Metaphor is the only way. Thank you!

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    1. Oh dear me! Thanks for correcting me, Susan. Indeed it was 2020..and not 2000🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

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