The evening spreads into silence
like this dreaded virus
and our silence mirrors this lockdown
Unlock those barriers
Unlock the poor, the ravaged
who have ventured to go back
walking hundreds of miles
their tears are smudged
their voices mute
We haven’t thought what they ate
where they slept
How they walked, how they wept
and all they did was something we can’t
even as we lick our wounds in this
cocoon, locked up to discuss
A community spread
The evening becomes reticent
moves into night
And with every dawn
fresh deaths are listed
we shake in fear, morning afternoon
Only night gives respite, but shadows
walk across dreams.

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He has been writing and publishing poetry for the last thirty years, and his poetry has appeared in numerous online publications. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding and currently is a senior academic in India's Indira Gandhi National Open University. Read other articles by Ananya S..