New York Suffers

THIS POEM WRITHED OUT OF THE HEART; BASED ON A TRUE STORY AS PEOPLE OF THAT GREAT CITY ARE TORN APART.. I AM A NEW YORKER I was in a quarantine when my dady died That night. I saw my mom lost all emotions— fear, fantasy, failure, depression, OR WHAT? My dad failed to fight... I am a proud New Yorker, My dad, a medic, who read out to me Anne Frank’s Diary and told “my heart, Record...Anne Frank lives in her art”. He had to read out to me last few lines. DAD? WHEN? WILL YOU? Let me go too, to you. My mother failed to cry that night Four of us observed quarantine, It was April, 9 Medics did not turn up in the morning They said they were overdone that morning, My father’s sculpture lay heavy on the bed And perhaps on my mom’s Chest, Medics said, “we would do our best”. Mom could not touch him, she fears not When dreams turn to dust; But she feared, she could not lose us. In plastic wrappers, that evening My dad departs, “Virtuous soul mildly pass away” GOD! TRUST ME — IT HURTS. I am a proud New Yorker A medic’s daughter, I have a young enough brother, Death does him, little bother. In Plastic wrapper my dad leaves unloved I remember, I used to kiss him As he would leave for grocer, or, to his work, Or, awakening out of a daydream. Today he leaves in a plastic wrapper: Does Statue of Liberty holds aloft A Beacon of Light for this poor New Yorker?