Words After September 11

WORDS AFTER SEPTEMBER 11



We will not be quiet, Lord.

We will not hide in books,

Under our desks, Lord.

We will not whisper

In the rowdy street.





We will hop

On our “three-wheelers,”

On the Morning Express,

Wheel up the ramp

And fly beyond





The limits

Of our comforts.

We will explore again,

And find ourselves

Lost again. Yet,





We shall hold our hands.

Yet, we shall love

Our neighbor.

Yet, we shall stand

On our dad





And mum’s shoulders,

And we will play yet again.

Let us now honor our dead,

The Earth’s dead.

Let us not tremble.





Let us not be quiet.

Let us not stammer

Through a million

Emergency sessions.

Let us talk





To the bird in the tree,

The bird in the sky.

Let us sing as a flock,

In congregation.

We will





and shall

And can

and must not

Be overcome.

Let us walk out tonight,





Tomorrow, and sing

We will

and shall

And can

and must





Not be overcome.

Let us go to the films

On Saturday,

To worship any day

We wish.





Let not these burning towers

Be our metaphor.

Let us honor our dead, yes,

And let us build and rebuild

Our metaphors.







-- Indran Amirthanayagam c)2001 Chennai, India, September 27, 2001

El abolengo, un poema

El Abolengo

Borges nos mira,
soñador y joven,
desde la solapa
de su Obras completas,

Tagore
con cabello cano
está envuelto
en una bufanda,

Orwell,
su cara arrugada—
parece 1948,
varios grandes están

expuestos en fotos
y retratos. ˁCuántos
libros tienes, le pregunta
mi hijo a su abuelo?

“Elige uno,”

El reino al borde
del mar. Theroux escribió
el verso para bautizar

un viaje ingles.
Perteneció una vez
a Edgar Allen Poe
en ‘’Annabel Lee.”

Ahora, construiré
mi casa al borde
del mar con antiguous
y nuevos troncos,

madera flotante,
percebes enredados
en maleza, ancla,
proa y casco.

Neruda llenó
su hogar y su jardín
con el mar.
Ahora, me pertenece todo.


Indran Amirthanayagam, de El hombre que recoge nidos, Resistencia/CONARTE, 2005.