This Winter’s Cold - A Poem By Rachana Grover

Like every year, winter’s cold whiplash

Is felt in every bone and sinew,

There’s nothing special this winter

As icy cold winds hit the city anew

I watch the figures flashing on my screen

Huddled around a makeshift tent,

Shivering in the cold around a small fire

With meagre rations, but smiling content

Joined by a cause and a reason

Those that bring food to my table,

Sit quietly waiting for justice and a listen

By all who have everything and are able

No, there’s nothing special about this winter

The plunging mercury and winter’s cold,

The shivering spine and numbing fingers

May mean nothing years later when all is told

Yet, these people in the cold hold on and persevere

Like many others, they await their own dawn,

While some of them might in the cold fall away silently

Into the folds of the bitter cold, we mourn

Still, what is so special about this year’s winter?

As we sit in our warm and cosy homes,

Our larder is stocked, the heater is on and

Music plays while the channels we roam

Riveted by those images of bodies in the cold

Surfing through the channels we pause,

Then move on to better news and other events

Can we stop for the many that fight their cause?

The night falls and the temperatures alas quickly they dip

Another day of toil they may have in fields is lost,

They shiver in the empty streets waiting for hope

While others on the fringes only sit and count the cost

Just another ordinary winter they say with men out in the cold

But, I cannot sleep and find myself in deep thought,

Pondering over this strife, the desolate face of these food growers

Oh, they’ll shiver again tonight under the cold onslaught

This is a special winter, a winter of hidden compassion

I never knew myself and now have found this feeling,

Of hope, of empathy, of caring for those I do not know,

But now understand under what forces they are reeling

In the depths of the night as they stand vigil over their cause

And beliefs, their desires, and their fight for freedom to toil,

I discovered in me a brotherhood and empathy for them

Unknown strangers with a justice plot men will foil

Like every year, winter’s cold whiplash

Will be felt by everyone and me,

But this special year it has brought

Recognition of another’s sorrow that I clearly see