I AM THE WORLD
I, I AM THE WORLD
I, I AM THE SMELL OF THE EARTH AFTER THE RAIN
I, I AM THE ECHO OF A WATERFALL
I, I AM SUNLIGHT IN THE EYES
I, I AM COLD WATER IN THE MOUTH
I, I AM THE SMILE OF THE FACE
I, I AM THE SOFTNESS OF THE BED
I, I AM THE LATENESS OF THE NIGHT
I, I AM THE VASTNESS OF THE SKY
I, I AM THE WORLD
AND, WHO ARE YOU?
YOU, YOU ARE THE NEIGHBOUR’S RADIO
YOU, YOU ARE THE WALL, THE FLOOR, THE ROOF
YOU, YOU ARE DREAD, AND FEAR, AND HOPELESSNESS
YOU, YOU ARE ALL THE WORDS I CANNOT READ
YOU, YOU ARE THE MUMMIFIED PHAROAH
YOU, YOU ARE THE FRAME OF THE PICTURE
YOU, YOU ARE THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK
YOU, YOU ARE THE RINGING OF THE PHONE
YOU, YOU ARE THE DATE
YOU, YOU ARE WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE
BUT YOU, YOU ARE PART OF MY WORLD
YOU, YOU ARE NOT THE WORLD
No, the “you” here do not refer to you.
It was hard writing this poem. I wanted to make in general, that is, for everybody to read and feel and be able to own it. But like all poems, it is also the author’s, that is, mine. How do I describe “I”? To me nature is the perfect picture for myself. Nature belongs in this world just like mortar and bricks do not. Nature is not perfect and not without quibbles but it belongs. The world would not be better in one way or the other without it. At the same time it was nature of me to use the little ticks in our daily urban living to describe the “you”. I realized though that my reader may have a different description of themselves and of the “you”. For instance, another may like to say “I, I AM THE M&Ms MELTING ON THE TONGUE” or “YOU, YOU ARE CHILLI UP THE NOSE”.
The idea of writing this poem was not so much to arrogantly trot around saying I, I AM THE WORLD (as tempting as that might be). I wrote this poem because I was inspired through all the injustice and oppression in the world. Once, I had a teacher who told me after looking at some poems I wrote that I shouldn’t just be writing sad poems. I couldn’t reply because I wondered how this teacher could not see all the sadness around. Yes, there are a lot of beautiful things in life and more specifically, in each of our lives. But the copious tragedies of life are sometimes so much less expressive then the pleasantries in life. And poems, poems have a way with the things we cannot express. The words we cannot form, the pictures we cannot draw and the pain we cannot share. I am not a poet, I just poet because I need to vent. Today, though, I write a happy verse. Because, today, I am not telling a story, I am being in that story.
This poem is for all the times injustice and oppression has been triumphant, for all the times the powers of the institution trump the fragile, defenseless individual; the poor and the orphans, those whom the law cannot protect and those who are stuck in a unforgiving, unkind and cruel system.
I reckon this is not just my words. This is probably yours. Somewhere in your life, maybe you wish you could have said something to the oppressor. But you could not. Injustice and oppression will always be part of our world but we do not have to let it be our world. We cannot let ourselves be numb to it.
I hope the reader will enjoy reading is. I dare you to tell it to the world, to stand above and say I, I AM THE WORLD. And pass it along.
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