Death

a poem by Rajdeep Gupta

Come to me young and old,
for I can liberate you from your broken soul,
give me thy hand and feel my icy touch,
I am thus the healer.

My old servants – Malaria, Typhoid… have been replaced
by Aids and Chickenpox,
I must commend them for this.
What else I say when men seeks blood of men?

I come in every fold,
untimely, abruptly in every soul…
I kissed them in their forehead,
heaven or hell is their desire…

Why? I saw you fear, don’t be
for each one has to embrace me.