Frozen Certainties

What a time of frozen certainties.
Nothing flows. More the clout,
Keener the icicles hang in the heart,
Less the questioning and the doubt.

Even when the lips grin,
Nothing moves in the eye;
Unbeknown, closest of friends
And relatives in proud isolation die.

The birds that freely came to feed
Now come gingerly;
Scout however they might,
There is no welcoming tree.

That which was spiritual
Is now blasphemy;
Success makes bosom friends
Of religion and currency.

Songs of bonhomie now connote
Treason against the State;
Few are those whose human faith
Still remains testate.

(Courtesy: Caravan Daily)