The screech,
The scream,
The spasm,
It was happening all over again,
Only this time,
I was witnessing it first-hand.
The pain so intense,
That my limbs have started-
To numb out!
My vision ebbing away,
Just like the air-
In my lungs.
The time turning agonizingly-
Slow, as the crowd,
Huddles around- staring,
At me, as if-
I were some peculiar insect,
Rapidly, changing its colors.
I want to scream out,
Real loud;
For help,
And then.
My intuition hits me.
How many times had I seen,
Such an incident unfold-before me,
And I had only joined the crowd,
To,
Merely stare on;
To,
Silently accept,
What was wrong- but,
Now the sides have changed:
Now,
I was the wood;
And Karma,
Was the flame.
I was now the victim,
Of my own cold game.
I try to get up,
I fall back down,
I frown,
But nobody’s coming around,
I scream,
I shout,
I struggle-
I swear,
I can feel the approaching trouble,
As my insides turn,
To rubbery rubble.
How could it be,
That my fate was closing in on me,
And then, these words,
I recall:
“As you sow,
So shall you reap.”
I wake up,
To a vast serenity of white,
Was I in heaven?
Something just didn’t feel, right!
I kinda felt,
More alive;
Then I remember,
The last time;
Before I died.
Just then,
The Doc walks in,
And tells me,
That it was real,
That,
I had survived,
A stranger had saved my life,
Brought me to this hospital,
In time.
I asked,
‘Where was he?
I needed to thank him,
Cause without him,
I would have been another numbered coffin.
In the morgue’,
But the doctor says,
He’s gone,
But he’s left a message:
Dear friend,
It doesn’t kill,
To lend a hand you see,
To be a lil’ more human,
Then you have ever been!
-Ishaan Phukan
Libëranté. 