POEM
The wind swirls around and strums the leaves.
The monsoon arrives without a warning.
A deluge, an outpouring from the heavens,
As if in answer to the call of the earth.
Parched, dry, drought, famine.
Thousands, in danger of dying.
People huddle in hovels,
In danger of losing homes to the raging floods.
I tremble.
I tremble.
Before the anger of the gods,
Disdained by this world.
Forgotten, replaced by other idols
That crumble and decay.
Evanescent images that beguile the eye
Fleeting pleasures, shiny ornaments
…hollow at the core.
I tremble.
I tremble.
Pay homage on behalf of the others
Intercede on their behalf
…utter words of appeasement.
Let not the abyss
Dark night of the soul, prevail.
Intoning ancient chants,
Guttural sounds emerge from my womb.
And all the animals– birds, beasts
Fish and fowl, they answer.
In the forest, a bamboo flute’s melody travels
Through the open spaces, spiraling towards the skies.
This is for the land, dying from neglect.
This is for the sky, dark and grey.
This is for all the humans who walk the land.
This is for the future, calling forth a new world.
