When ‘London Bridge’ came crashing down

(Dedication: to all the lives lost beneath the rubble of the collapsed flyover in Kolkata)

Fervent prayers holding onto dear life,
pouring out in futility from
beneath the rubble of stones
and lost hope;
concrete and broken attempts
muffle helpless screams
as remissness stain the soul of the
city with innocent blood; despair
latched on to every breath as trails of
raw blood leave behind eternal stains
of the fallen ‘city of joy’.
The crowns lace out velvety
apologies, carefully curated concern,
their rusty fingers pointing
crookedly at the skeletons
of their own closet,
and the crumpled heartbeats, begging
to be heard, rest to an ease.
Our hearts
can only ache for those
lost under the debris,
and maybe the finality
of death will remain like
monsters under our beds, lulling
us into lucid nightmares of our loss.
.

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