by Ramakanta Das

When they depart from the scene
even though provisionally,
I feel as if I am left stranded in the emptiness
of the bank of a once-flowing-river,
that suddenly went dry
by the cruelty of climate change,
leaving the river-bed a mere expanse
of arid sand dunes and parched vegetation
of a strange kind.

The said emptiness soon pervaded;
the sky lost its luster in magnified blankness,
leaving it as an orphaned element,
devoid of moist clouds and wondrous
skylines of myriad colors.

The emptiness did not take any pause
as it further enveloped the once-vibrant civilization
with a rich heritage,
only to reduce it to a marvelous ruin
of despondency where I
steadily reduce myself to
a futile clamor of deep lamentation.

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