Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not huddled together, holding hands,
as a meteor races towards us.
But quarantined separately in rooms,
as a virus eats you slowly from inside.

Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not from a single gunshot to your head,
as you revolt against bullies on streets.
But from a slow drowning in your guilt,
as a voice asks you why didn’t you?

Maybe this is how the world ends,
Not from a bomb exploding in the mall,
as you buy a new summer wardrobe.
But from a slow burn deep inside you,
as you ignore the haunted eyes around.

Maybe the world doesn’t end after all,
Not from guns, bombs or stray meteors,
as you wake up to sunny blue skies.
But how will you face yourself tomorrow,
with all this death festering inside?

Moments no one could expect,
Like the year New York City finally slept.
When cuddles and kisses were no longer romantic,
And coughing or sneezing created mass panic.

We feared the air and what it could hold,
As we watched the breaking news unfold.
The days merged and time slowed –
We waited at home as morgues overflowed.

Strangers became heroes overnight -
Dawning masks of blue and suits of white,
Working relentlessly with no end in sight.

When keeping distance was a sign of affection,
Knowing it was for your own protection.
Children stripped away from friends,
For reasons they could not comprehend.

Through troubles and trials -
The answer to our prayers,
Came in glasses and vials.

For as the sunsets and rises,
Across every ocean horizon.
And like the certainty of tides -
This storm will soon subside.

This too shall pass -

Doubting your own hands
Fearing your own breath
Colleagues, family, friends
Potential causes of your death

I miss wet rain on buses
I miss crowded subway stairs
I miss noisy streets in public
I miss breathing ocean air:

I miss walking in the snow
I miss snowmen building high
I miss concretes slushy flow
I miss children stepping by:

I miss eyes of pretty girls
I miss old men sitting too
I miss seeing squirrels creep
I miss streetlights switching hue:

I miss walking to and there
I miss waiting crosswalks tick
I miss coming home all wear'd
I miss sleeping after six:

I miss waking up at nine
I miss dreading morning days
I miss my recurring life
I miss living life again.

It flashed on the television screen
The death toll rising
It was just another stat for me
Just an inanimate number
General Knowledge
Before that day

Before that day
It was just a boring news piece
Repeated all the time
Shouting matches on television
No on cared bout the dead
Just numbers to them
To me

Some days less some days more
A minister said deaths per capita were less
Tell that to the widow
Percentages and line graphs and histograms
And vultures and hyenas for trps
So dry no emotion
Before that day

Anchors and politicians
Calculating and comparing
Different countries and classes
By deaths and cases
Like stock market
Humans in flesh and blood
Like shares and indices

These lives these smiles
What destiny held for them
Who knows
Gone away in the icu
To just become another statistic
Another pawn for politicians to fight about

Thousands and thousands of people
Becoming numbers
Meant to be forgotten in days

The magnitude made me numb
I didn't care
It wasn't me
Wasn't my family
It didn't affect me
To me it was a
Just a never ending vacation

Rates of poverty and unemployment
Didn't matter to me as a child
Misery and anguish of people
Millions and millions of people
Just a figure to be momentarily saddened by

While I cursed at the zoom meeting screen
Someone's mother and father passed away gasping for oxygen
Leaving a newborn orphan
And while I ate the same bland food
Someone died walking miles towards his home

Before that day
It didn't matter
It wasn't me
Wasn't my family
Till it was

It's painful
A person becoming a statistic