She was in the belly of the whale
made only for her kind; women.
This is a Fair matter.
A hot, humid, summer
in Calcutta, the elephants dress up
as frequently as women;
in paint, in gold.
Only green wrapped around her waist that morning.
On ground, the whale punched every pebble,
pressed its weight on earth and stone.
Miles, and miles, and miles
shrieking at everything it passed.
She can see his visions: his hot, lethal nose.
She was ahead of everyone.
Thrown over her shoulder, her lips spoke
along her sari peering out.
Face clear of adornment
except for red between her brows.
All clutched tight with her, the women.
Eyes touching congested walls, intestines.
Stiff muscles balanced the whimsical shifts
of the beast,
swiftly tightening the loose wraps
of length around them.
Never leap before it stops.
Humid and wet inside the body.
I want my children to speak English.
Thick scents. Thick, thick sneeze.
Impatience rules the sex and ruins it.
They wavered in his belly.
The men around the bend, crossing his path.
He’ll cut through the heads. Lightening.
Monsters never wait.
The whale turned and roared.
Dark hair flickered
like black tulips in a wicker basket,
shuffling from the turn, the women.
The beast spit, sharpened teeth,
marched toward the men.
Illusive red painted them. Blaring.
Everything must give way to his mission.
Men leaped in front of the beast
like drunk frogs into the the mouth of a snake.
Ripped skin, crushed bones.
Careless deaths in front of women.
Never should a man-made monster be crossed by a man.
Train purged the women on the ledge.
The woman in green watched the trance.
Time is precious with children.
The seasons await their turn
before hitting the earth with color.
Her feet waited patiently before crossing.
I wanted to share that the last time I tried to post this, the process was interrupted by a strange rocking of our house. I thought it was the usual dizziness, my head spinning from sleeplessness or hunger. But it was different because I wasn’t the only one feeling it. By the third or fourth second I realized it was an earthquake. I ran out with my family in a panic, and I’m thankful to God that it was only a 3 on the Richter scale (actually, a 4.2 now that I check), a residual shake from the 8 that hit Iran. I’m in Kuwait, among the four Arab gulf countries that were affected from what severely hurt Iran & Pakistan across the gulf from us.
I’m praying for Iran and Pakistan. Please pray for them. Take a moment.
I just find it surreal and fascinating that I mentioned ‘the earth moving’ in my last poem. You don’t always expect what you write to come true for you to that degree and that soon in literal form. Since it’s only been six hours, I’m still vigilant about it even though it was mild. Whenever something rocks or shifts unexpectedly now, my eyes freeze for a few seconds to decide if it’s happening again. If I should decide to choose which other things to take with me besides the clothes I have on.
I’m letting that go now otherwise I won’t fall asleep tonight. There’s more stability than I think. The spinning, the swimming, the rotating.. it’s all a part of the stability; the balance. Nothing can be balanced without first being vulnerable to chaos.
Everything is balanced. Sometimes I just forget what balance feels like.
I guess this is it.