Inconvenience
"Smell of gangrene permeates the air.
Bags full of donated clothes.
I lost my boat ...But why would they care?
Sanitary towels
Depression and Death.
Typoid and Malaria
Semi-permanent tin shelters,
Charity and counseling intermingle
Open up! Open up!!
But what is there to open up?
My child perished...I lost all that I cared.
Piles of clothes, yet none are mine!
Tsunami is thy name ...
You shall forever bear the name that destroyed our lives.
Is there a bigger pain?"
I sit and type away, far away,
Ensconced between walls of concrete.
Never truly knowing, never really grasping
Magnitude, sadness, nor the profundity.
Too selfish to send nought but minutia,
While others altruistically do what I should.
I sit and type away, far away.
Ensconced in walls of ignobility.
I to B
I start to question behaviours
Of I and those that surround I.
Alphabetically speaking I is favoured,
Magically self-destructive, it remains
I-chink of narcissist like myself.
The path from B to I is long,
Meanderingly torturous, yet
Some take it, day in day out, why?
I refuse to correct my outspokenness
To please one or two meaningless con-artists!
So the Path from I to B, I will not take,
You, my dear Sir may take it or lump it!
seashore--by--Tagore
(I found this beautiful poem by R Tagore on a forum ...I just thought it was so meaningful at this time... "on the sea shore of endless worlds children meet".. the mother who gives life can also destroy it...)
Seashore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
They build their houses with sand
and they play with empty shells.
With withered leaves they weave their boats
and smilingly float them on the vast deep.
Children have their play on the seashore of worlds.
They know not how to swim, they know not how to cast nets.
Pearl fishers dive for pearls, merchants sail in their ships,
while children gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They seek not for hidden treasures, they know not how to cast nets.
The sea surges up with laughter
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
Death-dealing waves sing meaningless ballads to the children,
even like a mother while rocking her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with children,
and pale gleams the smile of the sea beach.
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
Tempest roams in the pathless sky,
ships get wrecked in the trackless water,
death is abroad and children play.
On the seashore of endless worlds is the
great meeting of children.
