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Showing posts from February, 2011

Butterfly Flutter By

The butterfly has flown away
And now the memories remain
The colours of her wings
Still etched in his mind's eye
The butterfly has flown away
Fluttering with the wind
Flapping her wings, hard
Leaving behind a sad smile
Yet, she remembers
That time she sat on his fingertip
Yet, she remembers
That fleeting moment when she stayed still
Then the gust of wind came
Her wings caught that drift
And she was blown away
She flew away
Leaving behind tiny vortices of wingtip powder
Falling gently on that fingertip
That still stayed still
Till the memories settled down
And he held on to that wingtip powder
Remembering the memories of that fleeting moment
Written for two of my favourite people in the world.

The Hospital

This is a hospital.
Where men sit waiting, not on the benches but on each other's feet.
This is a hospital.
Where the sick don't find a place to sit, as all the seats are broken or taken.
This is a hospital.
Where doctors are two hours late, and that's considered "OK."
This is a hospital.
Where patients with the slightest display of "Do you know who I am?" are given first preference.
This is a hospital.
Where children lay scattered on the floor, sleeping or weeping, while their mothers console them with empty promises.
This is a hospital.
Where people sidestep the children and move on, without looking down at the pain of the innocents.
This is a hospital.
Where a tired and hungry child cries for milk.
This is a hospital.
Where the famished mouth presses gratefully and suckles happily on it's mother's life-giving teat.
This is a hospital.
Where a young man wearing a suit and tie chances glances at the supple breast of the young mother, leering at the sight.
This is a hospital.
Where the suit-and-tie man cares nothing about the patients or sickness, but on imaginary sales figures that promises to convert into money, but always wants just a little bit more.
This is a hospital.
Where Medical Representatives don't need to take appointments or talk to anyone, but patients are thrown out forcibly right through the door.
This is a hospital.
Where words like 'ethics' and 'morals' and 'duties' are nothing more than words plastered on placards, or painted on white walls turning grey, fading slowly to nothingness over time.
This is a hospital.
Which has been left at the hands of competent doctors and incompetent administrators, as nobody wants to do the societal clean up.
This is a hospital.
Which has seen so many sharp minds get lured away by that financial temptress.
This is not just a hospital.
It is a chilling representation of what our world has become.
Where selfish people look outside their comfortable sedans, tut-tut twice at the deplorable conditions, then roll up their windows and get lost in that momentary glitter that they have mistaken to be real life.
This is real life.