the full-throated cry of the sky
pierces the calm of a spring day
besotted with its capacity to go on.
unhindered —
the shrieks of the crows speak of the agony
of the air, that is carbon, ash, cacophony,
& unanswerable specks of dust and dirt.
why do we forget to be kind to what
we inhale? why do we forget to be kind
to what is ever-present?
the city gleams and glides through the complicity
of its pupils, as kindness is thwarted by the need
for immediate reach and control.
why is it the most difficult to be kind
to our own selves? why is it so difficult
to salvage all the broken pieces?
~
hold your own hand, next time you escape
to figure out the path of reconciliation
with your point of origin —
your nature is to breathe and fly,
and turn through the pages of life,
to find your own love, deep within.
.
© Anmol Arora
A rather different tone and mood for this one, when compared to my other recent verses.
Linking it up with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Kindness
HA's Place 
Ha, I wrote in somewhat this vein, especially “why do we forget to be kind to what we inhale?” It is all finite, something many folks have not woken up to yet. I love your poem, and the beautiful photo above. “Kindness thwarted by the need for control” is a powerful observation. You nailed it. Your closing stanza is especially wonderful. So well expressed.
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“its capacity” the spring day? the cry? O! Ha, it is the cry, the forever unceasing cry of industry and city and plane flight paths. I love how the path leads back to the self as a occasion of kindness. I’ve gotten the sense as I read through this day’s poetry, that few of us have been kind enough to #1. Further, I get the sense that writing this poem–in the enter of the poem–is the awakening. Maybe the change.
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We tend to forget to be kind to ourselves. I love your poem, Ha.
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Because of who “we” think “we” are.. our oneness is with self not the universe.. so self preservation is a limited concept of materialism and greed. Fresh air never came into the success paradigm. A nightmare.
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Women are programmed to care for everyone else but themselves.
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Stunning and powerful poem Absolutely love the first lines “the full-throated cry of the sky pierces the calm of a spring day besotted with its capacity to go on” as well as the last three lines. Amazing. I ask myself the same questions and can feel the desperation of what we do to ourselves.
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I love especially that summing up in the last three lines.
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To turn within is the best way to spend the earthly days. Its reward is acceptance. Beautifully put. “the shrieks of the crows” has me pondering over their number in your place. Because even this species is dwindling at an alarming pace both in cities and in villages here.
The painting seems to be about Kolkata. The place looks so familiar, specially that minibus.
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Oh yes, we do need to learn to be kind to what we inhale. I have never seen taking care of our air expressed like that before. So much pollution anywhere—and so little care for such a crucial aspect of our world.
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Oh Ha, this is such a beautiful poem, and the song is gorgeous as well.
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Alas, forgetting to be kind is the most common type of forgetting there is.
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Vital questions that deserve serious answers. A wonderful witness, Anmol!
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this resonates deeply, well written!
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