Reflections in Our Time
Simran Kaur
What reflects so well in time?
What power and conflict ever repeats?
Ever comes, ever ebbs, where war did dine,
Where human nature ever beats.
What are these reflections in our time?
In our power and our height,
In the way we hear the chime
Of power and war-like bites.
What happened to the voices that whisper in our ear?
They amplify and tell
Their story through a viral way so we can hear
Where power to them fell.
What rule of nations rule us all?
What power do nations hold in world whole?
Where restlessness will to us fall,
When we leave a damp cold hole.
Nations rule with fearful power,
Nations now do not reflect but move and slither
In dangerous ways, in dangerous hands they tower,
With ways to destroy nations, to make them wither.
Like ink in sodden pages,
Trailing their long vines,
They sneak through all the ages
Of smiles, frowns and pines.
Like black ink that smeared reflections in our thought;
Do we bring cycles once again?
Blackened, curling where we fought
Our wars of blackened pain.
We build a home of heart,
And yet water it with tears,
And there it grows a part,
A twisted toil trimmed with broken shears.
What has man done to thyself?
What has law done for man?
In systems that fold through time and age and health,
What flames did we fan?
We seem a creature of impressions and comprehensions,
Yet it turns to reflections once again,
It turns to time, the time of hesitations,
The time of a blackened pen.
Learn do we, or be it in our nature?
Knit our groups, so be it our way!
What we did, what we try to nurture,
We make it cry with our play!
‘Man be an ironic and foolish creature.’
‘Man be a benefit to nations and land.’
‘Man be a heart that builds life in their feature.’
‘Man be a mix of trails on a hand.’
We make our systems, make our play,
Make our ripples in the land,
We sink a blackened ink in day,
We walk an aged hand.