I think of earthquakes
A fire maybe.
I think of the tears
Cried, the sighs sighed,
The houses and lives
Destroyed or changed so much
That they aren’t nigh as nice
As they’re meant to be –
They don’t bring the pleasure
Or relaxation, or inspiration
That our creator has intended them to bring
You think of love gone sour
Hearts torn in pieces
Bitter tears and the inability to weep
As much as you want for fear of looking mad
To the rest of the world,
The insanity of not yelling loud
All the grief and terror which is inside
But I counter you with
The utter disaster –
Memories gone bleak,
Or changed so much
That they aren’t nigh as true
As they were meant to be.
In the light of the recent events in Japan, I need to go mindful again and reflect on the troublesome nature of … well, Nature.
Today, I composed two short poems, here and here, both focusing on the disaster that hit Japan. I rarely do that, because my inspiration is too random (Even the poems about Chernobil, (here in English and here in Bulgarian) were written so much later and without any obvious occasion). Yet, this time, prompts by a couple of poetic websites/blogs served well and although I had originally intended to direct my poetic pieces elsewhere (it was before Friday, while I was speculating my poetic options for the coming weekend), they just happened to fit perfectly.
Again, I see, that no matter how great we may become, or how trifle, Nature will make us equal, by making things even in this case. So many grand and petty troubles were caused and solved by Friday’s quake, that they all faded into the common tragedy. In a grim and gripping single event thousands of fates obtained alternative twists. Possibilities are still to be considered. Now, it’s only tragedy, loss of souls, and silent tears!
In silent awe I wish the best possible to all! When you come to think of it, Mondays always mind the past two days, don’t they!
3WW – dainty-haunting-tantalise
Dedicated to all suffering in Japan.
Contrary to all we feel,
the Earth is dainty –
you see cars chucked aside by water,
as if small shells before the wave we make by hand.
Fractured images are haunting
filling us with awe.
Tantalising our mind
regarding what will be.
© 2011 Mariya Koleva
Крехка е земята, противно на познатото.
От снимки ни преследва този страх,
че утре няма.
Частични образи ни карат да замлъкнем,
докато те крещят.
Умът застива без да знае
какво ще бъде.
© 2011 Мария Колева