Let the ceiling fan spin you tonight, my friends, you don’t need to be anywhere. Go lie on a cool, hard floor, my friends, feel gravity hold you down. Together, we’ve come through dark days, my friends, there are darker days coming soon. The moon is flowering tonight, my friends, we’re here for such a short while. Sumedha Bhattacharyya (@kathagrapher) translated into dance. You can see it hereComments closed
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Our worries are nothing compared
to those stranded miles from home,
to those who are already hungry,
to those who are sick and alone.
Last night, you dreamt we both left you,
I dreamt my father was gone—
in the flat across the back alley,
a girl cries each morning at dawn.
The night before the lockdown,
my sister called to say
our cousin had told her:
Go see your father soon,
he is not keeping well at all.
We both knew I could not go,
and that night I dreamed
I was standing alone
in an silent railway station,
waiting for something or someone.
And all week, I’ve been trying
to remember what I was waiting for:
was it my sister, my father,
or a train to take me home?