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A Herculean Step
In the nestled coven, with a rusty bed
Surrounded in bedroom’s musty smell
An elongated quarantine with overwashed hopes
Seems like a never-ending loop de loop.
Every struggle called life, coming to a halt
Every valiant opportunity going past by
As one’s world shrinks into a capsule
Afraid of a protein-coated nucleic acid molecule.
A world in war with itself is all I could see
Lost daily wages, and starving eyes of children
Closed market shops, unprivileged stops
A wrinkled face of hankering, unable to soar
Looking out of the window, as if in a cage
Suffering the glitches, in its hopeless phase
Holding on to the future, ready to rage
The world I see, in its three, dimensioned page
From ancient wisdom to the modern globe
The crushed human spirit, under a flimsy mood
Held its nerve together, like a phoenix bird
“This too shall pass” as they always said.
No matter how crushed it gets,
We shall get it right, with a strong Herculean step.
Like all mankind, setting aside hate
Together we march forward, even if a little late.
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Arpita is an aspiring poet living in Arendal, Norway. She is usually greatly moved by the nordic forests and writes poetry on nature, but lately looks at the current social and political situation. For a time like this may never come again.