In this world of covid, a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

How many more, will die,
I ask you, will someone, ever cry,
On the sage, of hasty decisions,
I don't know, how many will die?

Will we, cry for the driver,
Who died in the train,
Should we cry for those,
Crushed by the train.

Would you, cry with me,
For the child whose mom died,
The child, in it's childlike manner,
Wanted, his mother to awake.

Are these migrant workers,
From some strange land,
If they're the same blood,
When will we reach out our hands?

Were they needed only for freedom,
Now who cares for them,
In this world of covid,
No man will reach out his hands



Note:- Poem is based on recent news. I hope you will understand the pain.