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stood before my misty bedroom window pane I saw hazy scenes of future and my gray reflected face blotches, smudges, patches feelings, emotions, thoughts on that bedewed window of a million human hearts my bare palm feels the glass cold indelible marks. forms a million faces in that frosty glass Gazing deeply at me from beyond the glass the hungry and the bleeding from a thousand miles. My heart begins to wonder what scenes are yet to come beyond that misty window as the days come and go by Will warm rays of sunshine ensure the mist goes dry, or raindrops bathe the pane and wash away it stain. but those searching gazes, of a million stained faces, of bleeding feet and wishes forever is etched in that pane
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 12:09 AM UTC
THE PAIN BEYOND THE PANE
stood before my misty bedroom window pane I saw hazy scenes of future and my gray reflected face blotches, smudges, patches feelings, emotions, thoughts on that bedewed window of a million human hearts my bare palm feels the glass cold indelible marks. forms a million faces in that frosty glass Gazing deeply at me from beyond the glass the hungry and the bleeding from a thousand miles. My heart begins to wonder what scenes are yet to come beyond that misty window as the days come and go by Will warm rays of sunshine ensure the mist goes dry, or raindrops bathe the pane and wash away it stain. but those searching gazes, of a million stained faces, of bleeding feet and wishes forever is etched in that pane
this poem is based on my thoughts on the migrant labourers walking hundreds of miles to reach their homes after the sudden lockdown in India
shibu-varkey
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 12:09 AM UTC
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