This poem speaks about the harsh realities of the pandemic.
Poem: The Battlefield of the Heart
Sometimes the battlefield has no sounds
Just the cracking sounds of silence
As the spear of sorrow pierces the heart
Or the sound of tears slipping on the surface of life
It is the absence of sound that is far scarier than death itself
One by one, they hit the ground without even a sigh
Closing their eyes inside the casket of silence
We are left to whisper in harsh tones
About the carnage and the death toll
We grasp at the thread of hope
As it splinters inside our hearts
We are left baffled by the absence of sound
Inside the chamber of sorrow
Death has sneaked past the gates of our hearts
Into the deepest parts of our souls
We are now numb from the cold grip of death
Even as the names of the dead are called
And mortuaries are overflowing with human bodies
We can no longer cry
When can we cry? How should we cry?
When so many of our friends, families and colleagues are dying
Do we have to bury ourselves in sorrow?
Should we give a hint of our inner turmoil?
Should we allow our inner fears and hopelessness to run amok?
Or should we gather inside the tabernacle of the spirit?
These questions are found at the bottom of the abyss
But these questions are a sign of life
That is starting to sprout
It is the seed of hope
That has to push through the solid surface of hopelessness and uncertainty
And re-invest itself into the realm of life
Find your inner voice and listen to the words of hope
This is the beginning of a new chapter of life
It is not going to be easy
The germination process is a very painful experience
But the tree of life has to take root and sprawl across the face of uncertainty
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