When the wheel of life stopped
the waters felt
as if a calling had surged
from the Earth’s anguished bosom
to halt the oars
that propel our boats.
But on the far horizon
of blue and white
the trains of clouds floated off
to mark the time’s unstoppable flow.
Perhaps time flows at its own pace
in each of the spheres.
We, on the planet, travel
frantically within our self-defined
days and nights
but the space far beyond our telescopes
seems to have its own leisurely pace.
Between the unknown celestial time
and Earth’s spinning around
pulsates life – stars radiating from black holes,
forming the milky ways
through mystery elements and unnamed rays
stimulating the human heart and soul
to seek out the distant connections
in the endless vastness
with one clear sign
that life, space and time
must continue to flow
round and round
ever and forever.
But what on Earth have we done?
Walls, walls, and walls –
the unnecessary walls
that gag the flowering
of the human spirit
We’ve consigned ourselves to shadows
where we can’t spark the light
and find love.
We are now hurting
both in the abstract and the matter.
Inside our comfort boundaries
we suffer from stagnation
and the suspension of viruses
in the air
which then end up furtively
down the throat –
vipers in our clay-made frames.
Copyright Ali Imran
Written in July 2020 when the pandemic raged in the pre-vaccine months. This is an updated version of the poem.
Image: David Salik
