Chath pierSath: New Poem
Writer and painter Chath pierSath, a regular contributor to our blog, works on a farm in Bolton, Mass.
The Saddest First Day of Spring
By Chath pierSath
The saddest, grayest first day of spring I’ve seen,
Watching for the virus that has gone viral,
Invisible particles unleashed in space
On the loneliest Earth in the Milky Way,
Her particles whistling at light-speed,
Our blue dot’s population trying to hang on.
Infection, think isolation & separation,
Not even an interest in Facebook or Twitter.
Distancing the saddest of the sad,
The grayest of gray,
Stockpiling greed, weapons of economic winners
And losers, mass destruction,
The heart melting down.
Arriving, the long-awaited apocalypse,
The day of the walking dead,
Robots and zombies are
Here on Earth beneath lonely sky,
Air full of viruses.
Each body a potential host
In every cell and in every blood
In need of other blood
A risk of strange inhabitation,
A churning of the milk,
A colonization, a takeover,
This death not knowing when
And how, this imperfect doubt
About where to be and go—while the powerful
Take command from some chamber
Tube channel telling us
What to do, what to see,
& where to hide for the greater good.
Social distancing, farming in the sun,
Here on lonely Earth of unpredictable weather,
Climate changing, market ahead
Without people to eat the fruit
And vegetables, when real
Spring does come,
And planting starts—we labor still.
Every waking morning,
Loneliness, empty sky,
Saddest earth, isolating farther from the sun,
A dangerous earth—life inhabits alongside death.
With this awareness,
Shall we breathe everything into our lungs,
Even the virus that may harm us, to know what really matters.
–Chath pierSath (2020)
6 Responses to Chath pierSath: New Poem
It is a sad spring, but Chath, I remember when I used to have you out to talk to the students at the Voke years ago. You’ve survived far worse than this; in fact, you’re a walking miracle. When I think of you, I only think of courage and hope.
The poem does a beautiful job of underscoring how we are sometimes at the mercy of unseen forces. I think the poet’s repetition of the saddest and grayest days, etc. give the poem its mournful tone as the poet mourns for the earth, for himself, and for us in the season of promise, of new life and rebirth.
Chath Piersath has a sensitivity and incisiveness like few other contemporary poets today. His perspective is raw and true and rocks me to my core. As a man who has seen everything the human experience can offer, we should listen closely to his words and take heed in his quiet wisdom. He knows both destruction, and the highest beauty intimately- perseverance and unequivocal love for humanity. Read his work, and see his artwork – incredible!
Chath did whaat any real poem does: sing to the people. I know so many are feeling this way. Today should have been the first day of baseball season, my Christmas, but not this year. No rites of spring leading to summer. An incomplete year.
Agree with all of the previous responders. Thanks for the words, Chath.
There is so much to unpack in this poem. To me the “churning of the milk” says a lot for the whole piece. The monsters, the demons and even the angels which came from the sea of milk form a great analogy for the state of the world and the duality of chaos and harmony. Maybe now is the time for heroes again?