Buoy
©July 17th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
Somewhere, while fires eat trees
In faraway Sweden, the land
Slides, heavy and unstoppable,
Down a mountainside somewhere in Tibet
Devouring entire houses,
Frightening people and dogs,
Making a vision of the End
Come perilously close to reality.
I sit here, in sunny Medford,
Satiated after a mid-day repast,
Looking at the wind-swayed branches
Of my Japanese maple, and at
The sweet, elegant fronds of ferns
Tossing their heads back and forth,
At the edge of a retaining wall,
Holding together roots and trees.
Somewhere, a father weeps,
A void opening up within him,
As he holds his blank-faced, hurt,
Brown-skinned boy, both forcibly separated
From each other for two months,
While humankind undergoes many
Tectonic shifts, replacing human-kindness
With human-unkindness, and back again.
My daughter rides her bike, and swims,
And laughs, and sings, and delights
In her daily routine at Summer Camp,
Making friends, and learning skills,
While she grows like a young sapling,
Full of sunshine and hope, and joy,
Separated from us for seven weeks,
But secure in our love and reunion.
Happy in my own life, I let in
The sorrows and the devastation of others,
Because I have the space and strength
To do so, but try however I can,
To stem the flood-waters rising
All around me, they are everywhere I look.
And so I bob around, a buoy in the water.
Hoping not to go under, helping to moor.
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