Unease~

a distant murmur wakes me up,

ripe with simmering conflicts; I shut my eyes to defy the blizzard

while the winter chill lures me in. the blanket, warm and fuzzy,

is more than reassuring, the argument gaining conviction

as my feet touch the frigid floor. there’s a will to kill,

not men, but time;

rooted in inaction, devoid of purpose and poise. the world soars high on digitally-mastered wings;

ludicrously linked-in and

wastefully whatsapped; the TV blares nonstop, fancy names of impending variants

flashed with perfunctory ease,

courtesy the WHO.

wonder why we pander

to the toxic machinations of

the global custodians of truth,

the ones Orwells and Kafkas warned us of long before Covid,

while the world looks back at

those consumed by the virus

with rehearsed pity.

you, me

none.