The Place I’ve Come to Live
©By Vijaya Sundaram
April 20th, 2013
I wish I knew more about everything
And I wish I didn’t.
I’d love to know the names
Of those little blue-edged white flowers
Growing close to the soil amidst ferns
Which we planted years ago,
Probably memorizing their name.
I’d love to know the names of the trees
Pushing their way into Spring,
In all kinds of weather
In the woods close by, where
Invisible animals come out to play
In the moonlight, and small snakes
Slither away in April.
I wish I knew why music moves me so much,
And has taken residence in my body
So that I cannot move without
A beat or a song pulsing in my blood.
I wish I could tell you why the face
Of my daughter, or of all children
Fills me with the greatest urge
To protect, to cherish, to save.
I wish I could say that I would
Have run, without a thought
Towards that explosion, despite
My fear of what it could do,
But I do not know whether
I would have been a heroine.
(We’ll never know, will we?)
I wish I could tell you that
I would have been the first
To rush up and pinch a bloody
Artery or vein of a man in shock,
Who, having lost both legs,
Managed to write the words:
Bag. Saw the guy. Looked right at me.
I wish I could tell you that
I’d know exactly what words to say
To those who lost their legs:
I know how you feel? I feel your pain?
My father lost his left leg
And some toes on his right?
I wish I could say: Kill the man
Who did this crime, maim him,
Torture him, make him scream.
But something doesn’t let me,
Like a hand, pulling me back, putting
A calming palm on a fevered
Forehead, making it cool down.
And, meanwhile, elsewhere,
Millions live their lives
In fear, unplumbable sorrow,
Unfathomable hunger and rage.
I wish I could say something
To everyone, be everywhere,
Do something useful.
But I sit here, paralyzed, mute
Looking out at a quiet, peaceful
Backyard, with those little
Blue-edged white flowers,
Growing close to the soil,
Which I planted years ago,
And whose name I’ve forgotten.
I wish I could say something
About more what happened this week.
All I can say is I’m glad it’s over.
But it’s never over, is it?
Knowing more doesn’t help.
Not knowing is unbearable.
But I have to accept this, for
This is the place I’ve come
Finally, to live.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~