In the worst of man's dream,
in the solitude of any sleep
none dares to imagine perishing
by the flames of fire
while one is alive and breathing;
nothing so fearsome ever
than getting burnt to death
so unexpectedly.
Those screams, those cries,
those appeals to Gods,
must have all kept failing,
as they suffocated, choked
and yielded to death so helplessly.
A dozen in that raging fire perished,
others who got engulfed by those flames,
to injuries and fatalities succumbed.
Some will wake up to find
their own faces so unrecognizable
some with burnt and scarred skin, in bandages
will struggle thro' recoveries and surgeries.
Will they ever be able to come to terms
with their appearances
when horror will unveil before their eyes
that burning inferno which caused them
those blemishes and bruises so undeserving?
And those they lived together with and loved
fell asunder due to that raging fire
devastating their existence
in their very own homes;
how could fate be so callous
how could time not alert them
so that they could run and escape
from getting charred,
from that crematorium that had ignited
in their own apartment?
Will families and people ever be able
to disconnect themselves from the
distressing memory of Grenfell Tower fire tragedy?
only can fortitude and years of grace
subside their grief but not the torment
that will resonate in their minds
forever, silently within.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem