The Great Indian Dream

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at my ineptitude;

Numb as horror, grief, heaviness,

despair pass by in equal measure. 

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at the bodies piling up by the roadside,

the air thick with charred bone dust, 

the voiceless nameless common folk 

gasping for air 

Inside and outside hospital corridors 

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at an invisible virus funnelling 

through countries and cities and families 

pulling away loved ones to a

senseless death

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at the lords in the gilded castle

choking out every last coin 

from a weary migrant throat,

watching leerily as a child sucks on his 

dead mother’s breast 

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at empty speeches bellowing out of 

treacherous television sets,

plates clanging to the rhythm 

of the emptiness in your head. 

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

at lord folk playing roulette 

with people’s lives and livelihoods,

desperate to clutch onto 

power, greed, devotion. 

Sometimes I want to scream - scream 

Scream, scream, scream 

All you want. 

Scream into the crowd or 

scream into the darkness. 

Scream forever more, 

because that is all 

You and I can do.