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Poetry Month: EMERGENCY

Updated: Apr 27, 2020

at two in the night

insistent knocks at your door -

a scramble; relief -

the emergency is that

he is scared and cannot sleep


The Clock Is Ticking

This world believes that only situations,

That result in multitudes of people dying quickly,

Are ones we term as emergency situations.

And yet there is an illness,

Which is causing a slow death to the entire planet,

But nobody bats an eyelid anymore.

We dream of beautiful beaches by the sand,

Unaware there are plenty that are rising day by day,

As the Arctic ice sheets peel off one by one.

We still cut trees like they're our enemies,

Even when they provide us with the primary source of life.

Factories pump out clouds of smoke,

Cars burn the air to ashes,

Only because luxury is a necessity to us.

Any time we see extreme retaliation of nature,

We feel bad for so many suffering from the devastation,

But will never change our actions until death whisks them away.

Imagine you're a polar bear,

Stranded on a thin ice sheet which is flowing through the ocean,

And the world around that you know and love,

Is falling apart in front of your own eyes.

Until we realise that sooner or later,

We will be that polar bear,

That all of this will abruptly end,

There won't be a tomorrow to find a cure for such pandemics.

Because once that day actually arrives,

When we are about to cease to be a living soul,

We'll wish that we had more time,

But by then even time wouldn't exist anymore.


i’m tired of trying to shed my skin

today, i don’t remember how to speak

After months of convincing myself

that i wouldn’t let go of my voice again

that i cannot

this is a lonely poem

i don’t know what to write for anymore

when my mother points

to the clusters of my hair fall on the floor

it feels like a loss of something greater

that i do not know how to mourn

that i do not want to mourn

the only time i feel lonely

is when i cannot recognize myself

so i’ve stopped looking in the mirror

because i don’t know what i’m seeing

it’s not an emergency

i sometimes wish it was an emergency

so i could feel like it mattered

the sirens that used to ring inside me

have also left

and i feel like i’m leaving with them

my hair will look different tomorrow

and i’m tired of making it look the same


I've lit lamps in temples

Worshipped in churches

And bowed my head in salah

I've looked for refuge in your God and my God

And found that solace often feels the same

So when you try to tell me we're dissimilar

I can't help but wonder

Is it only that

our Gods have different emergency numbers?


they tie their hunger

and pack their pain

they cross borders

veiling disdain

Hitchhiking isn't a

romantic pursuit

But a choice,

definite, absolute

felt in sore legs,

A fight, unseen

And eyes that

Lose its sheen


"In case of emergency,

press the red button",

they said.

But the only button

I found was stitched

on my pocket.


-an acrostic poem by Raunaq Bahl

1 Σχόλιο

Nicholson Percy
Nicholson Percy
03 Μαΐ

For refuge, I have sought refuge in both your God and doodle jump.

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