Category: cọ́nscìò

No one would have conceived, handshakes and hugs could be death

Once more, in our sandals of hope
Our weary feet will stand firm and tall
Again, the trees and wind will sing,
Nothing but ecstasy in lyrics of joy

Somewhere around, a sneeze only wreaked out from a
man’s throat & everyone faded away like smoke.

death figures drown the eyes. conjectures:
a new cold war of superpowers or theory of conspiracy?

Everyone thought it was the end of the world but it wasn’t,
For it came like a thief at night, taking both the holy and unholy.

We remain in our homes,
like prisoners in their cells,
because there’s no promise
of aseptic air,
no promise of safe strolls,

We that stayed indoor painted figments of fear over our doorsteps,
We that went outside wore spacesuits on earth,

hope tucked in the distanced engagements / the
anniversaries / the successful fundraisings
/ the crowd of courses / the dullness of indoors
/ the cracking of dawn / the dimming of dusk

They drove past me and my brother—
The x and y in an equation
Past our cry for survival
Our hands resting on our waists

And you stood there in your gowns and your masks
fetching people from the flame as if
you do not live in houses of flesh, as if
you do not have people whose hearts skip
and leap with currents of worries for you.