Ruby red chillies and ones that are a brilliant emerald green,
Coated with fragrant spices, immersed in smoked oil, are through glass jars seen.
Plump, lush lemons, that are paper skinned,
Have been, in cold mustard oil, firmly pinned.
Their colour is still a bright, sunshiny yellow,
Unlike the state of my mind, which is somber and mellow.
From my online classes I've taken a short break,
And today, I was determined to my favourite pickles make.
But the state of the world weighed heavily on my mind,
I thought of the many people, worldwide, who are in a bind.
Whole spices did I roast and pound,
Sauted, stirred and coarsely ground.
Even as the entire melange in warm oil swirled,
My mind, with deep rooted sadness, whirled.
I absolutely cannot fathom how oxygen cylinders can be sold in black,
Of how many ventilator beds there is a lack.
To, at exorbitant rates, sell what nature gives us for free,
In itself, to me, seems like a crime against humanity.
Such folks have, not just on their faces, but on their collective conscience a mask,
WHO will take these evil hearted criminals to task?
And then I suddenly realized, whatever on my troubled mind had sat,
Had just been fully absorbed into my pickle vat!
I momentarily felt freer and lighter than I had been,
Whether my pickles emerge unscathed from the tumult of emotions, remains to be seen.
If only it were that easy to make whole a world that is broken,
I'm doing my bit, but it's no more than a token.
Find something that you enjoy doing from home,
There truly is no need to outside roam.
This morning, I was free, I could have chosen to gallivant,
Instead, I chose to replenish my pickle stock that had become scant.
If we have to be out and about, let's double mask up and not oscillate,
Between the decision of to or not , vaccinate!
As soon as you can, get your jab,
At life, it may be our last stab.
Currently I can only WhatsApp my close family from afar,
But soon, I'm hoping I can safely fly black and personally hand over a pickle jar!
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