We survived Covid-19; we know what dying is

Hot flushes in my feet, I cannot sleep,
afraid of the train running within me
as I lie on bed, my limbs shaking
as though I am in a trance with fever
that feels like the womb in childbirth,
head stiff like muted groans
of a hundred bombs exploding.
There is a leopard on the newspaper front-page,
glorious on Delhi streets,
unafraid as we lie huddled in our homes,
besieged by the clamour of metal plates,
pigeons circling over manicured parks,
dogs morphing into lions.
I see the forest collapsing into the night,
the little backs of animals shining
in the moonlight, the jackals and the deers running,
the elephants swirling their trunks
into banana groves, the halo around the lion
swaying like rings of fire, city roads sinking
beneath their weight, deserted colonies flooded
with antelopes and eagles.
Into this world, I think of the ocean
carrying us to faraway lands, hungry migrants
dying on ships, the pandemics of the past,
the conquest of humans on the back of nature,
the colonising duel of the powerful and the powerless.
I wonder if the world has turned upside down,
if the shadow of the beast has swallowed our homes,
if the river has risen like skyscrapers,
if the cyclones have come to our doors,
if doves have turned into owls,
if sky overhead is forever weeping,
if I am a changed person, in our altered universe.
I touch my burning skin and tell the mirror I shall survive.
I utter a thousand affirmations before the statues in prayer.
I wave to the neighbour I barely recognise, from balconies.
I watch television all day, turn rooms into granaries.
I shudder to hear door knocks, afraid to open doors.
I walk around in circles to keep my heart pumping.
I fear running into humans in lifts, roads, rooms.
Somewhere deep into the forest, someone echoes these back to me.