The Bitter Phiz

This poem addresses the situation of labour migrants during this epidemic. And one such scene,where the child tries to wake up his dead mother. The Bitter Phiz My soul felt fainted, When the video was painted. My anger had the temperature of a volcano, While my intestine had the swirl of cyclone. The sky roared loud, The Cloud cried rivers, as tress swayed in dismay. The moon turned Saffron, while night had the color of collyrium. As the child tried to wake his mother, Ran just to turn back, And see if she participated behind him. Tried pulling her, With hope of getting pulled back. Hide in her scarf, With the anticipation of getting cuddled. Shook her hard, With the expectancy of being chided. But she would not answer, The 2 year old barely understood why. Why Humanity seemed to be failing them. Why they were treated as insects, Crawled out of big cities, and being smashed like one. Why they were stuffed in cage of trucks, like a turkey on a thanksgiving. Why social distancing seemed hard to afford, like a diamond for luxury. The 2 year old barely understood why, Trying to wake lifeless mother of his, while keeping his head on her chest to feel the rhythm of death.