Dying Order

In a pandemic-induced world, this poem is a symbolism for the deep pangs of ennui that the post-modern population grapples with. It is particularly inspired by a set of photographs that I had taken during my travel to the Dzukou Valley in Nagaland in 2019. The photographs which show dead branches of trees burnt in forest fires spread across the blue horizon helped me arrive at my philosophical musings which took the form of this poem.

Burnt charcoal covered their skin
While the winds tarried along,
How many times do dead branches reiterate?
To establish a dying order!

Dying order of a plastic world
Decapitated by disease and dilapidation,
Discord within humans widened
Destroyed by the invisible mirror reflecting greed against need!

Will there be a blossom again?
Would the lilies blush?
Would there be skittle-coloured birds?
Would sparrows and swallows swarm again in the hot embrace of the sun?

The disarrayed turbulence of nature
With the warm blue engulfing the living green
And the dead branches spreading their hollow heads
In patterns of intravenous knots.

Untie these knots of structure,
Uncover the truth of existence,
Undo all that has been done,
Un-quarantined then, you shall welcome a humbler tomorrow!