Resilience
In the parks-
lying under the waiting benches.
On the buses -
left behind unsuspecting.
In a scrubby scooter-
parked in the middle of a street,
waiting for the market-frenzy.
Tucked in scruffy blankets,
levelled in tiffin boxes.
Adorning a garland at times,
making away in a makeshift bodysuit
for a change.
Ticking. Ticking.
Ticking along.
Steady and patient.
Counting the last hours, minutes, seconds.
To announce the arrival of the precise moment-
when the world would cease to be the same, ever,
yet again.
Screams. Blood.
Pieces of mangled flesh and bones.
Sirens. Wails.
Frantic attempts to undo the silence.
The void, the tinnitus left behind
by the explosion that ripped
the faith in life to shreds.
Days, weeks, months, years go by.
Same rush. Same bustle.
New faces. Some old.
A metal detector beeping in distance.
A police checkpost somewhere.
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