remains to be seen and 3 other poems
Where okra screams and ash clouds fall, this poetry navigates ecofeminist grief,…
Read more →An ash cloud silences the island. Distant scrolling worlds taste the vast, unseen, silent connections.
after the 2022 hunga tonga eruption and tsunami
footages and images on our feeds
but no feedback. as we scroll on
in our monologues of curiosity
a small part of the world has left us
on read, unable to reply, an expanding cloud
of ash swallowing its testimony.
when a place is severed from what
tethered it to the world we remember
it is an island but when nearly 12000 kms away
a fisherman swears to his wife he could taste ash
in the air tonight we might recognise
that the dimensions of an island can never be
you-by-me, that what we call an island
is something we haven’t looked at deep enough
to see how it connects to the rest, that what holds
a fragile thing aloft is also a fragile thing.