It was a Beautiful Day

It was a beautiful day The weather was fine The sky Yellow blue and pink The streets littered and red With bodies Very very dead. There’s no one to point a finger at Because the one is actually a many A singular finger not nearly enough For plural mobs that cumulate The worst of its constituent individuals They don’t deny the killings The way they don’t take credit For taking the lives of innocents. Neighbours and cops look the other way Like they’ve been instructed to do They don’t believe in our God, you see. But they do believe in their own Wholeheartedly.

It was a beautiful day The weather was fine The sky Blue and black Like her body The horizon Predictably unattainable and Boundless, like mankind’s depravity. When they dumped her off the bus Did they think she was dead? She probably was After they had inserted themselves, Metal rods and other objects That ruptured Her insides and outsides She probably was

It was a beautiful day The weather was fine The newspaper Crisp, fresh Same as every other day But screaming someone’s screams today Tears well up in reading eyes For one brief moment. Then pages are turned Newspapers folded Put away. And then We get on with our day.

…

Inspired by two heart-wrenchingly gruesome and shamefully savage incidents in my country’s history(this and this, in brief). Incidents that should have shaken the country up, jolted us like electricity and flung us into action, but didn’t.