Glacial Epoch
©February 24th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Part I
On these cold, white, muffled February days,
With heaped snow all around,
And chill creeping into our lives,
An insidious whisper,
An irreversible trend,
With ice-caps melting, oceans rising,
Poseidon winning this round,
Glaciers the size of countries breaking off
Into an endless turning, churning,
Burning ocean, with dying krill,
And beached dolphins, broken whales,
And vanishing fish and blocked-up birds,
I go into survival mode,
Existing (comfortable, yes),
Living only for family and dog.
Guitar music drifts down
I stare dimly out the window
Watching flurries of snow —
Wayward thoughts of winter.
If this is the end of the world,
We won’t die of thirst at any rate.
I think into my Madras coffee,
Eat my veggie-burger sandwich,
Break sunshine from my clementine,
Drink in its gold and gleam,
Grateful for the here and now.
I will need these memories
For the there and then of the future,
Where ghosts wait.
Part II
You know your place
When the enemy shows its face
You know you can fight or flee,
For you know (though you may
Not be free)
What you’re fighting for.
And though it hurts and burns
Boring a hole you cannot ignore,
All the way through to the centre of you.
(It’s up to us to do what we must.)
You arise, and fight for right,
Not scared to break, or die,
Or acquiesce, or desist,
Your heart a tightened fist.
At least you know your place,
When you can see
Your enemy’s face.
It’s when the enemy
Smiles at you, then
Turns its back,
Whispers, glances at you
Then away, smirking,
Shoulders you out,
Ignores your voice
Demanding their ears,
Listens with veiled eyes,
(Curtains drawn over darkened rooms
Allowing no light, no air, no thought
No time to spare for you or yours,)
Shocked by your intelligence,
Then denies your truth, learning,
Insight, power, compassion
Uses cryptic speech,
Condescends —
Then, it’s worse than open warfare.
When the hypocrite dons its mask,
Your truth moves farther and farther
Away, slipping over the horizon,
Into a deeper trough than will be found —
Just shadows and froth left in
The wake of your enemy’s
Glacial smile.
…
But even glaciers will break off
And the ocean will win.
But your truth will rise again
And float upon the waves,
And perhaps a bird will
Alight upon your shoulder,
Bringing news of a newer
Pangaeic world, where
You and others can begin again.
Dropping enormous thoughts
You smile, turn away from
Window, white sky, back-yard, and
Resolutely switch on the kitchen light.
A dog needs attending to.
A child calls to you.
A song your husband plays
On his guitar pulls you back to
Avalon, After the Ball.
Ghosts can wait.
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