The need to Die

Need to die?
Quench what? Fire, passion, greed?
Vengeance?

Humility, may not last
With bullets, real,
Trading with ones not for use,
Not in Coffee shops where charred clots
Are stepped by panting feet,
Blood is washed on the platform,
Where trains ran a little late

To pave way
Anchor shoots, momentary wrath?
‘Action’ is announced at last
Black deathly uniform
Stooped on smoking lobbies
Of asphyxiation, not trembling fear,
Searching for a beat, or moving death, life or lifeless

Water ran out on burning assets,
Cover ran out, hope, shelter, not friends.

Shelter all around but only a hole that
Defined it
Who can choose this?
Youth-lost men
In dire need to die for a living

No survivors, no hostage
No victors
Actors
Candles, no expression at the end
No answers are needed

Only cry, cry sisters, brothers,
Cry mother
Just cry

Tears or tearless
Embrace, don’t stoop, feel the life beating, don’t shoot,
Kill the need to die, kill it, kill it, till you die.

 

Procyon Mukherjee

1^st December

Zurich