Lockdown Blues

July 5, 2020,  Guru in a Bottle  No comments

A poem by Murzban F. Shroff

This is the winter of our confinement

This is the spring of our unease

This is the summer of our expectations

The fall of our species

This is the weakness of our senses

This is the outcome of our greed

This is the collapse of our intellect

The negation of our needs

This is the night of our darkness

This is the prison of our morrows

This is the cumulus of our burden

The song of our sorrows

This is what we brought our world to

Conquering land and sea and sky

Not for a moment did we pause

Thinking where our limits lie

We robbed the earth of its beauty

And we drained the soil of its strength

We blew off the tops of mountains

We were so hellbent

We did not spare the rocks

And we did not spare the trees

We even dammed our rivers

Before they could reach the seas

We did not spare the seabed

And we did not spare the air

We did not think of the species

With whom our planet we share

And now we live in solitary caves

Nothing to show for our wealth

Worrying about our future

Uncertain about our health

Do I have the virus?

Do I show the signs?

Will I make it safely

Make it through these times?

Will we live like humans?

And will we roam at will?

Or will we experience life

Standing at our window sill?

Will we live off our phones

And our flat-faced computer screens?

Will we know once more

What real freedom means?

Will we rub shoulders?

And will we feel the same?

Will we ever hug

And learn to trust again?

— Murzban F. Shroff