Have you spoken?

Have you spoken to the ocean recently? Or to Yemen? Or to
a yellow dinghy at the bottom of the Mediterranean? How

about a polar bear? Or a blueprint in a factory somewhere,
for a nastier gun? I can hardly make a list better than your

morning paper. What would you say to a bird perched on a
length of barbed wire separating this from that? Keeping

person from person? Me from you? Don’t ask me. I don’t
speak. I spend the evenings in the balcony, mourning a lost

love. Bemoaning the universe’s broken parts that collude
against me. Thinking about a young Krishna who opened

his mouth to show his mother the entire cosmos within.
Unbroken. I talk to myself. About silence. Endings. About

love. A little bird on the concrete parapet opens its beak to
to scare the encroaching dusk. Darkness falls over us like a

coarse blanket, all at once. Starless. Moonless. Skyless. How
can you bargain for peace when you have nothing to give?

How can you bargain for love? The night takes my hands
away from me. Like plastic, like chemicals, like everything

we made and used and threw away, won’t love turn up
on a distant shore, in the belly of a murdered sperm

whale? Have you talked recently to the naked mountains-
cold, their lips parched in this strange December rain?

46 thoughts on “Have you spoken?

  1. Its not apathy that prevents most people from acting, but the sense of being overwhelmed by the scope of the problem facing us. There are people tackling this problem, one issue at the time.

    Just we never hear about their heroic actions. Guess, this makes me, a dreamer, that change will happen.

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    1. It is true.. it is overwhelming and there are absolute heroes working at different levels. But one feels there is an urgency now… and it calls for the collective to act as one and soon. I too am a dreamer, hoping for a happy ending! Thanks Therisa.

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  2. Wow, Rajani, you have said a mouthful. How can we long for peace when we have been ennervated by the greed and callousness of those in power? My hope has turned to resignation. It is sad, as we should be so much more than this and, individually, we are. But the systems have failed, and will always fail, until wise grandmothers and pacifists begin to rule with wisdom. Maybe in the new millennium.

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  3. Oh, this is such an impactful verse with its disillusionment/melancholy at the state of this world. The questions you ask are hard-hitting. I especially loved this bit: “Darkness/falls over us like a//coarse blanket, all at once. Starless./Moonless. Skyless. How/can you bargain for peace when you have nothing to give?”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I, too, am on that balcony, letting night take my hands, my arms–but not my voice. Your poem brought tears and increased prayers–both silent. I pray, among other things, that the little birds gather, and together, scare the dark away.

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  5. How to heal the world, when the ache in our own hearts seem to be impervious to any balm? But there’s a small bit of hope (at least the way I see it), in that if the small hurts can be overcome, there is hope for the larger ones. The mention of the god who contains multitudes tells me that though heartache is universal, there is potential for healing in both the microcosm and the macrocosm.

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  6. What a wonderful piece of writing. Sadly so many of see this happening but do nothing. Things won’t change until we do.We must stop voting for those that say they will do the best for us but mean the opposite. We must be brave and protest…now!

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  7. Humans are so capable of making mess, even with a planet. In the midst of chaos and pain the sudden vision of little Krishna showing wholeness is a relief. Hope there is still time. Sigh.

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