Pandemic Angst
- a Poem
- by Jayshree Misra Tripathi
Social media tells me to say “I languish”,
‘blah’ was the word for feeling down.
Yes, I do admit to toxic anxiety,
my brain cells mutating in anguish,
since the virus came to town,
this spiralling infliction.
Yet in the end, the mind can but falter,
lose its grasp on reality,
as Time is uncharted.
Blah! No, not even languish,
I must sleep, not compose
at random in fitful repose.
STILL.
Why can’t I just close my eyes
slip into deep slumber,
in this continued eerie stillness?
Uncertain Life, Infection, Sudden Death
has permeated the air we breathed
for over eighteen months!
Often quoted, now clichéd, these words
echo in the chambers of my mind:
I know not for whom the bells will toll…
in the roll of dice. The Third Wave.
Today or tomorrow, known, the unknown—
we are all praying hard these days!
Jayshree Misra Tripathi
from Delhi, India, has been a consultant, educator and examiner in English Language and Literature, for the Diploma of the International Baccalaureate Organization. She has worked in print media in the late ’70s and ’80s in India and writes on women, their voices and cross-cultural conversations. As the eldest of 5 daughters, she includes her maiden surname in her writing.
