Poem: War of the Invisible
These are the hottest days in Chennai—relentless real estate leading to construction dust. I happen to live near a giant construction project, and then, the invisible villains find their way into my lungs. I suffer from Allergic Bronchitis.
Poem: THE WAR OF THE INVISIBLE
The allergens have caught up
Woeful — the AC is too cold
And the fan is too warm.
Breathing with those nasty microbes
Riding on the dust and soot of this city
When inhale-exhale routine becomes premium
Like climbing the tall mountains I dream of
Believe me — a rumbling itch in my throat
Like a thorn grates against the soft flesh
And a smoky chest and burning throat
Sitting on the frying pan on a forest fire
Does not make me the best person to talk to
The paraphernalia come out —
Little vapors of medicine fill my lungs
A war between the invisible
A battleground inside me —
No one should lend such a venue
It all depends on when the villains give up
Till then, the AC is too cold
And the fan is too warm.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2024