A seven-part poem,
Seven Songs Sung at Reservoir #4,
was recently published by
You can find it
About the poem:
|Road near Reservoir #4|
|Near Reservoir #4|
At the end of 2012, the murder of preschoolers at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut happened. Another mass shooting. Toddlers this time. And I thought: This puts the crisis over the edge, it's clear to everyone that something MUST be done. But nothing was done. Thoughts and prayers were sent.
The juxtaposition between the beauty around the reservoir and the horrifying news scattered me. How write about this?
|Forest near Reservoir #4|
There were 417 mass shootings in the U.S. in 2019 alone, according to data from the nonprofit Gun Violence Archive (GVA), which tracks every mass shooting in the country. Thirty-one of those shootings were mass murders. Nothing had changed.
Hundreds of lives lost. Thousands of lives torn apart.
The Du Fu poem is centered around being far from home, dejection, loneliness, wars in the distance effecting everything around him. The first section goes like this:
Seven Songs at T'ung-Ku
O wanderer - O, all year Tsu-mei a wanderer,
white hair a shoulder-length confusion, gathering
acorns all year, like Tsu the monkey sage. Under cold
skies, the sun sets in this mountain valley. No word
arrives from the central plain, and for failing
skin and bone, ice-parched hands and feet, no return, no
return there Song, my first song
sung, O song already sad enough,
winds come from the furthest sky grieving for me.
My poem begins:
A wanderer on this path - thousands of miles
from home. Look across the water: the world
on the surface is what is left of the world. On TV,
the endless replay of another shooting. Small fish
move through the dark beneath, carry the dead
on their backs. One dead, two dead, a dragonfly’s
wing-song leads me to my first song sung here,
on the lost art of knowing which stones can speak
the names of the dead, the lost art of knowing what
"home" means, the lost art of gravity…
The rest of the poem can be found
in The American Journal of Poetry