By Swapna Sanchita
He was still alive, I could tell,
From the way his chest rose and fell.
Too quickly, too high, in gasps,
Just after they lifted him like a too heavy sack.
Off the middle of the road, laying him on the side,
Aside, to die or not, but ensuring the disrupted traffic flowed.
The cars were all heading onwards, important people inside,
Making important calls, late to important meetings.
In important offices in tall buildings or tiny cafes in large shopping malls,
But a few of us who had so-called lesser lives to live brought our already slow daily grinds to a halt.
Standing around him, called for help, scrolled through his phone,
Trying to find a friend, a brother, a wife, a partner so they may know.
He was still breathing, this someone unimportant, but might not survive,
The angels who stood there, helping, or maybe taking videos,
Were younger folks, between nineteen or twenty-nine.
They wore ordinary clothes, those good for nothings with nowhere to go.
And so, they helped lift him again and place him in the ambulance - Doing all that human beings should when they find a man lying in a pool,
Of his blood, alone, in the middle of the busiest road on a Wednesday afternoon.
I saw it all happen in the two and a half minutes or less it took to cross the scene,
And I felt so sad because that’s the kind of person I am.
Flustered, disturbed, affected so deeply, I couldn’t even shop!
But the thing I shoved out of my head but still cannot forget is - I did not stop!