This year is already singed

Not even a week old, this year already questions
my blood, my loyalty, the bastard smell of my

poems. Like a feral cat, this year is licking itself on
my porch, asking if I will steal a saucer of milk from

the neighbour whose pet parrot it has just
devoured. Whose fault is the asymmetry of clouds,

of puddles, of rage, when the rain keeps coming
down in neat vertical lines? I ask you if the last

monsoon was any different. But this year is already
wet, see how some months are drowning. The

inferno is discerning only in the depths of hell.
When hellfire reigns on earth, all skin burns the same,

all tongues taste the same, all cries are oblations
poured on the same pyre. I ask you if the last

world was any different. This year is already singed,
see how life is charred and curling at one end.

 

For earthweal.com – be sure to visit and share your #climateemergency poetry.

34 thoughts on “This year is already singed

  1. I want to think there is hope, Thot, but I fear that’s asking the impossible. Right now, during the middle of winter, Toronto is under a flood warning for this weekend. Instead of, the usual snowfall warning. Humanity has really screw-up this time, and I fear there is no chance of reversing this.

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  2. Lord, this is excellent. Sparse and dry and hard as the crisis we face, yet it never abandons the lyric for the didactic. I am especially struck by the bookending first and last couplets, but also, by the imagery in the begging of the parrot-devouring cat, and the pure poetry of “see how some months are drowning..” An eye-opening, deep-throated yet delicate piece. I most sincerely tip my hat.

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  3. “Whose fault . . . ?” Whose problem. Finally we will have equality in the singing (singe-ing?) of the fire. Every line is quotable in this brilliant and devastating questioning poem. I fear the answers. Once I accept the true nature–the true identity of the parasites who knock out planet after planet, won’t I curl up and die?

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  4. We are all in this together. I love your cat to parrot (feral creatures popping up for me as well) and the char of political insanity.

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  5. Buzzfeed did a post on 14 Times 2020 Was Already Out of Control, and now this … We don’t get much of a break starting a new year and decade, which I suppose is the point … Like a feral cat after rapine demanding more. (Wonderful trope.) No break, no sense of easy scale, just local climate poked into some angry animal of rain and heat. A year “already singed.” Thanks so for the news, lends resonance to the proscenium our common year proceeds from. (Side note, when you post at the earthweal Mr Linky, could you put your location after your name? It would help to demonstrate the global participation. That is, unless you have concerns about identity or something else.)

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  6. The cat and parrot analogy is brilliant, Rajani………….easily applicable to political insanity everywhere. I can almost smell the singe and char in this poem. The only thing good about 2019 is that it’s over. We can hope for miracles in 2020. We live in hope.

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    1. The first week has been pretty bad – in India and around the world. So am not very impressed by 2020’s performance so far…but yes, we do live on hope!! Thanks, Sherry!!

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    1. Thanks so much Neeraj. Very glad you stopped to read. So much happening here and around the world – how does one respond. If there was a previous life, it must definitely have been diffferent!!!

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