Eduardo Chirinos (Perú, 1960)
The Millennium Is Coming to an End
But the seasons are still changing, the earth continues to turn, and the fish open and close their mouths as they have for centuries. Somewhere in India, tigers contend for tigress love while in a nearby wood rabbits devour the plants and roots that nourish the soil. I should be talking about pollution and oil spills. I should be talking about indescribable plagues, about starvation ravaging villages, about children disfigured by radioactive fallout. Instead, I am here writing this poem, weighing its words, selecting them with love and care, with anger and resentment. I look in the mirror and see only darkness, a swath of empty guilt on the blank page.
|I am writing this because I feel lonely, because words have|