The Burden of Deaths

I cannot bear the burden of deaths.
I cannot witness the repetitive dance of death.
These senseless, untimely deaths,
Shadows of neglect,
I cannot fathom where they come from or how they invade.

"Death"

The less I hear this word,
The more at peace I feel.
The more I hear it,
The emptier the world becomes.

The weight of human memories stirs turmoil.
In every halted breath, it’s not just one life

Countless lives evaporate, turning to ash.

Those children, kin, friends
All are left alone.

Beneath the collapsed ruins lie corpses, ashen bodies,

Orphans in hospitals,
The air filled with smoke and dust.

On the other side, nameless, placeless cremations,

Crematoriums with unknown locations 

Silently, I stand and watch,
Unable to hide the sorrow amidst the debris of destruction.

I think of the weight of words
Words of pity and kindness from many

Yet they are war songs sung by those who destroy truths
while on the other side, 

Mouths too afraid to speak

All are abandoned orphans.
The air filled with wails

A black rain in everyone’s eyes

In the language of death that sings our sorrow,
We ourselves are carving it out.

Every word is a betrayal.
Every silence is a wound.
In a language that cannot stop deaths
In words that cannot revive the dead
What remains?

Yet, I still write, and I will keep writing
not for forgiveness,

But for memory.

(A tribute to the victims of the Pashamylaram Sigachi industrial disaster)