Why write poems? Why read? If you can see a flower and see the poetry in it, do you have to write a poem about it, or can you simply take the beauty of it in your heart and relish the moments in quiet times? Why write? If writing is a solitary experience, is it also not solitary to relish the beauty of the flower all by yourself, or does it enhance the experience if you share it with someone you love or someone who loves the images, the poetry, the art of it? I don't know. All I know is I am moved to write about the experience or the memory of the experience or the rememory of it, so that later--months, maybe years--I can still look at the piece of writing and feel the immediacy of the moment, relive it, re-relish it and smile (or cry, as they case may be) at the thought of writing about it--maybe I will share the poem, maybe it will be read by someone else, maybe they may experience similar feelings or maybe they will feel something totally different, but as Jeannine Hall Gailey says, after you have taken such efforts to write the poem, your goal should be to share it with others, to make an impact with your writing (PR for Poets 2018). After all, art must be shared, no?
So, as a beginning blogger (in many ways, a beginner, as I don't consider my forays into it about ten years ago serious blogging), I will share one of my published poem for today. It was written decades after the moment occurred. Some moments and their effects can last lifetimes, and this was just one such moment. It occurred in Burma during the times I lived there in the 60s after the military coup of 1962. I was nine years old. Within a few years, our lives had been turned upside down. My parents were born in Burma--father in Linkho and mother in Taunggyi. My grandparents had gone to Burma from India during the British colonial era to eke out a living as petty traders, as their land, Punjab, and their livelihood as farmer, were impacted by colonialism in adverse ways. After the coup, my father's general store was nationalized, as were out schools, banks and all other businesses in all part of Burma. For months and years, we didn't have enough to eat, as we were an extended family of 18. Father took to selling contraband goods--watches, makeup, etc.--at the night market under the very noses of the military, who kept a blind eye as they benefited from the sales in various ways. But for reasons we all know, Indians and Chinese people were targeted for special treatment by them. This poem came a short time ago after the second military coup of 2021. My memories and rememories of trauma are shared here with you in the recently published poem. The poem was published in Harbor Review, Issue 7, in June 2021 titled "1966: Burma Bureau of Special Investigations." Here is a link to it; scroll down to Jaspal Kaur Singh. And thank you for taking time to read it: https://www.harbor-review.com/page7?fbclid=IwAR1oGFgDml81FPyKwK2aDp-DEnu3KzO7qAh2pZ0YzvDwdo5Mtqnrlj4j7OY And here is a copy of it: 1966: BURMA’S BUREAU OF SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS (BSI) 1. Glowing from dark skies the night’s lips parted. The night’s eyes kohl colored half closed after the coup as rifles pointed at our collective faces buried thousands in shallow graves. Murmuring at the spectacle, the night’s lips whispered— don’t let them find your treasures under the tamarind tree. 2. They marched upstairs and downstairs of our Taunggyi home. BSI: Looking for contraband goods in our home. Father smuggled imported merchandise and sold it under their noses on the night market to feed us. Collaborators and adversaries. They knew.
and places it in Ma’s hands. Her storytelling power sheds light on terror in Burma. Her few pieces of jewelry sold to feed the family. 3. The world’s gaze is averted and rests on Mao’s face. Ne Win, the eternal shining sun of Burma, crushes Aung San Su Kyi’s voice. The moon picks up a pen and writes everything on a monk’s body floating in the Irrawaddy. JASPAL KAUR SINGH If you wish, please leave a comment; if not, I hope the poem made you think of the Burmese people on this day. Happy writing and have a safe and lovely day! Jaspal
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