A Missive to Ancestors, about Oil Spills in Nigeria and Gulf of Mexico
Tell us again Conrad, that saga of my wanton ancestors.
Let my grandsons know, we were like our rotten ancestors.
I have joined the tribe of world-wide-web philosophers,
We formulate the myths for our forgotten ancestors.
Like callous children, we let you deal with your disasters,
O Africa, the lost Eden of our common ancestors.
See the dead birds floating in gulfs and deltas: Oil color!
We exhibit as artists our devotion ancestors.
Oil, blood, river, mud, to hanker after fistful of crud.
Its human destiny to imitate your passion, ancestors.
Why cry over spilled oil, why blame a naughty child?
To waste the nature's gifts is our tradition ancestors.
Send us Agastya again, to drink dry these polluted seas,
Again with Bhagirathi, we must refill our ocean ancestors.
What underlies your concern in Nigeria or Gulf of Mexico?
Why is to profit forever motive of our action ancestors?
Face the mirror Vivek! You're not a flotsam. Do something.
Overcome the grime with grit, like the best of our ashen ancestors.
*Vivek: Samskrit word for wakeful discrimination between right and wrong, proper and improper, evanescent and eternal.
PUBLISHED first online at Poets for Living Waters
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