The City and You
Kolkata, India
2020, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
the glass buildings cut the sky until it bleeds yellow,
there’s no sun, only neon burning halos—
you stand in inch-deep dust, the city glares down
this city is Eliot’s wasteland, and there are no purple lilacs,
this city is armed, with the shallow under its asphalt—,
the city has talons of smoke and there are corpses of trees in its mane,
there is the choking plastic in its veins,
the city looks at you and laughs
and it sounds like a thousand vehicles all screaming,
the city thinks it scares you,
as you close your eyes and try to breathe,
the fumes don’t let you, but you still try.
you look like a sign of the times,
you look like the word ordinary spelled in bold,
you wear your school uniform and your eyes are aflame
and you—you don’t want to rule the world,
you don’t want to wreak havoc
but you remember what Max Ehrmann had said
“you are a child of the universe,”
and so you stand in front of the blinding city lights and
you remember learning the words “climate” and “change”
and the ensuing destruction when they are put beside each other,
and you remember the city swallowing everything you want to save,
and so you stand and stare at the city,
and you stand brave,
with the silhouettes of the selfish metropolis
morphing into monsters.
the city doesn’t understand you,
the city with its broken promises,
and ignored warnings,
cannot fathom how you can
love the oceans when you have
gone to three beaches in your lifetime,
the city cannot fathom how you love the stars
and the skies and the seagulls and the mountains and the glaciers,
the city hears you scream as the world goes up in flames
and the city tries to lure you into forgetting the stardust
and constellations and this world you’ve lived in and this world you’ve learned to
love, slowly, and suddenly,
and the city doesn’t understand why you care
for people and beings you do not even know,
the city with all its emptiness and selfishness
and its crown of thorns,
does not understand what it means to love.
and you—
you stand in front of the city,
you think of all the people like you,
and you dream,
you dream of a future where people understand,
and people care, and the tawny shade of the ground
turns beautiful green,
and you dream of flowers between the cracks of the pavements
and of people smiling, happy, and you dream
of a future where the earth loves us, and we love her back.
so you take the city’s palm in yours,
and run your fingers on the scars,
you show the city a mirror
and wipe its tears as it cries
and you whisper things about home
and as the city looks at you in wonder,
you teach it one of the most beautiful things in life,
you teach the city how to hope
you teach the city how to save itself.
Reflection
Reflection
I was inspired to write this poem by two places. Last summer, I went for a vacation to the seaside. I live in the city with all its sharp edges and darkness, while the seaside was starkly different. It was soft and sunny and everything the city is not. The seaside made me feel less empty, and I wanted to represent that in writing. I do not think that the city is bad, but I think that years of fast-paced living has taught it to be selfish. The city in my poem also acts as a metaphor for all the adults who do not pay heed to the environment; the “you” in my poem represents us, the youth. In the times of young climate activists like Greta Thunberg, change will surely come. I want the person reading this to feel hope. I want them to understand that we have to fight back by showing the adults—the people seated on the top rungs of society—what they are doing wrong. Our fights, however little, matter. On reading about climate change, I have learned that the crisis can still be averted if we try enough, and for that, all of us have to work for it. I have learned about the dangers that the oceans I love face, and I am determined to change that. I have started taking small steps—joining organisations, being aware and responsible. My mother has taught me that small steps matter, and I firmly believe in that.