Sixty Hours Poem by Rani Turton

Smoke, blasts, billowing clouds
Billowing curtains from carved windows
The railway station now also has it's widows.

The city, in a daze, unable to grasp
Daily life has stopped; now suddenly
Mumbai, in a stupor tries to awake from
This nightmare without an end.

One dawn, many down.
Second dawn, many down
Third dawn, day has come
What will this city become?

Sixty hours of tears, fears and passion
Sixty hours of waiting, hoping for compassion
The rat-tat-tat carries on, carries on
The loved ones have go on to become
Victims, heroes, or statistics
When the day is finally,
Finally and irrevoccably done.

Cry, city, cry
Shed your lonely tears on the beach
Sixty hours, and your loved ones
Are far beyond your reach.

In this dying we are all one
In tragedy we are all one.
Now our day is, with sad finality done.

Copyright: Rani Turton

26,27,28 November 2008

Dedicated in hommage to the victims and those who who gave their lives to protect the city.