What are words worth?

  What will we remember?   (written in spurts between 10 May and 30 November, 2020; revised 3/11 Jan 2021)   What will we remember? Will we have the perfect vision of twenty-twenty wisdom in hindsight and difficult lessons learned in this year of the pandemic?   It all depends on where you were --and where you are when memory strikes— sheltered in place with roof and walls paid for, your life and its paraphernalia  un-mortgaged, closets full of seasonal wear and cupboards neatly stocked; or leaning against the weak bamboo and flimsy tin listening to the blue plastic shiver because you did not have the strength or means to make a roof; fingering the notes, no longer crisp from the day’s labour—such as there is— counted out,  a measure of sweat and muscle; or left with only your memories and the fading noise of traffic on streets once meant for travel towards dreams, or dreams of work; or waiting, walking, wanting or forced to return to a place you once escap...

These poems were part of a call for submissions by Prakriti Foundation in early 2013, a collection titled "Not Silence but Verse". Some Tanka and some Haiku. But all born out of an everyday anger. Breaking glass cuts through skin, teeth, hair, mind, to settle deep, in memory. ... Fingers filter sleep letting it escape for good like the child’s blanket that was slid off silently to reveal my growing pain. .... I could give a damn about outraged modesty when it is my self the totality of me into which rage has been poured. ... The sound stuffs itself out of hearing range; one law, that’s all it would take to quiet the fear and turn the panic to peace. ... His gaze unzips me from bus-stop to work and back wreaking possession.

Sometimes, one is assailed by a hopelessness, a frustration born out of the fact that one cannot do anything about the way one feels. You open the newspaper and are bombarded by a dozen stories that speak to the horrible things that go on in this world. Anger, disgust, sadness...and despair. Of course, there are also the many stories of hope and survival that cause one to smile. So we retreat from the assault of the news into a space that is our own, cushion ourselves in conversations about this and that, surround ourselves by the tedium of everyday decision making. Which outfit to wear? What to make for breakfast? Should I do the groceries today or tomorrow? And what about that meeting I need to prepare for? Should I call the electrician to come fix the stairwell light that's been out for weeks? In the middle of all this, when (and if) we allow the consciousness of the world to intrude, we run the risk of being blanketed again by that old feeling of " what can I do about i...