Symptoms began.
They’re good for us, we thought
We can make a difference.
They escalate as the fuselage pressures up
When the wings frosted at 30,000.
They never let up as rubber scrubbed tarmac
hard as my damp collar scrubbed my neck.
Help was on the way.
Sure.
Somehow coconuts stay cool on the inside
Mocking the warm volatile fluids that
curse through our veins below.
We sampled them and moved on.
To water, leaf, grain, blood and earth.
Our minds were not our own,
our intentions were not our own…
Forget about our lunches.
Birthdays and death days didn’t shake our symptoms
and the only things we could rely on
were unreliable reagents warped by the heat
and that the silent killer would not stop
till all the village
read 2 mg/dl.
Ignorant to this, our silver kings celebrated as their
wooden pawns burned there…but this is
Not about us anymore.
These symptoms may never resolve.
3 comments:
Hi Anup,
What I read is about a village( community) suffering from some unknown disease. And maybe they think this must be a sign from their God.
i'm glad you chose to write about the village and not just your fever experienced there. I am biased of course since you told me all about your experience there. I think "This is not about us anymore" ties up that the problem in the village is bigger than us, bigger than your symptoms, and also a little bit of defeat about what can't be stopped as of at least right now. nice man knew you had it in you. just hope those bastard scientists give you and volk your due credit. ugh i'm going to be late
Anup,
Thank you for being the first student to read your poetry out loud to us today. You did a fine job, and this poem is so good, because you took a very personal experience and revealed the universal mysteries and challenges behind disease and population health.
Post a Comment