Has anyone counted the stars, the constellations,
the black holes? How many countries are we?
How many will we be after invasion?
How many thousands of Russians now stand
in the streets, risking arrest to say "no war" -
war waged against their neighbours and
family members just miles away?
How many Ukraine citizens are now
bearing arms to defend their country?
(What kind of world have we made
when citizens have to fight their own wars
out of other nations' fear a madman
will start nuclear war?)
In my village, we are counting the trees
that come down, and the ones that are left.
We count the number of residents in need of housing,
so much greater than the number of residences
available to house them. How many homeless
in a world-class tourist destination?
No use counting waves. I just measure my breath
to their ebb and their flow, till everything
quiets and slows, and allows me to carry
the weight in my head of a daughter not well
and a country invaded, people on the screen
crying, distraught, the pets they bring with them,
the many more left behind, alone in terror;
and the old people, too frail to leave their buildings,
so they sit and count bombs falling,
hoping their building will be spared.
How hard we try to make sense of the world,
take inventory, try to fit everything
into its proper place. Too many things just
don't fit any more. They say God knows
every sparrow's fall. She must be busy now,
counting and counting the hairs upon terrified heads,
as the world approaches the lip
of unthinkable spiralling madness.
Inspired by The God of Numbers by Denusha Lameris of Wild Writing
Shared with earthweal's open link
I love your rage. You are kickass in this poem.
ReplyDeleteNot rage. Extreme world weary discouragement. We should have evolved by now.
ReplyDeleteSherry, you have voiced all of my sadness, fears and something approaching overwhelm here. Perhaps we will destroy ourselves before we have a chance to destroy all other living things. I hope there is a better way.
ReplyDeleteYou wrote beautifully of this tragedy .. a scene no one ever wanted to witness ~ again.
ReplyDeleteMadness is indefinable (Melville) and bears no count, but the eye that bears witness keeps a tally, whether it be terrified children and pets in shelters or trees that keep falling. You do write with a precise and wide eye for this moment, it took decades to learn to so keep up the tally. And see with a wild heart!
ReplyDeletein the US it's been estimated that there are more empty houses, than homeless people. kept empty by hedge funds and investment banks, to drive up prices of both buying and renting. so that a few hundred or perhaps a few thousand people can have fancy boats and cars and mansions made from the last remaining trees in Tofino. We witness criminal behavior writ large, and can do nothing. Mostly, it's why I don't really write any more. ~
ReplyDeleteI appreciated what you did with the poem...and how you gave it your own slant. There is so much to count right now among all of the tragedy of this senseless war. This morning I am counting the countries in opposition...that gives me hope.
ReplyDelete