April 2022
Bio Note: Celebrating the warm memories of my ancestors in verse is important for passing on to my children and grandchildren. I use a colloquial style for sharing the stories of those who went before me, as they continue to shape my life in wonderful ways. While I hone my craft, I am encouraged by a definition of poetry offered by Keki Daruwalla, a renowned poet from India, who said ‘Sometimes you have to say it as it is, before the metaphor and the magic begins.’ I’m always glad to be part of the Verse-Virtual community and am inspired and enriched by the rich poetry presented here, acknowledging the editor for his hard work and dedication to poetry.
Ancestral Shipwreck
A poem about the origins of the Bene-Israeli
community of Indian Jews, to which I belong.
I arrived on stormy seas
Flung against a rock by a shipwreck
I don’t remember who I was fleeing
Or why I boarded the ship.
The village gave me shelter
I remembered *The Shema and The Sabbath
I forgot my language
I adopted a new one
I don’t remember what I was wearing
(It was wave-drenched anyway)
I began wearing a saree
The men remembered their profession
They remained oil pressers
They didn’t work on Saturdays
The villagers called them **Shanwartelis
We ate like the locals.
I thank the rock
For standing firm
Like the wise man
In the hymn we sang at school
The rock granted me life
It let me build my house.
I seemed more dead than alive
I stirred on the funeral pyre
The villagers built for my lifeless body
So they resuscitated me.
I thank the whale
For swallowing me whole,
Like Jonah
It spit me out on dry land
And my tribe increased.
We survived the shipwreck
Seven couples
We fulfilled the promise
God made to Abraham
We multiplied like the grains of sand
On the shore
Grandfather moved his family to the big city
Father fell in love with it
He wrote poems about it
I did too.
* The Shema - Jewish prayer: Hear O’ Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.** Shanwartelis- Saturday Oil pressers (Shanwar means Saturday in Marathi)
Midnight Prayer
Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10
Last night,
I wanted to write a poem.
Words stubbornly resisted
The page remained blank.
Doing what is normal for me
In times of crisis, joy and sorrow,
I prayed.
I asked you God to send me some ideas.
You said I must have patience.
I replied that I didn’t have any.
Then “pray for it,” you said.
So, I did.
Still nothing.
“Wait for it,” you said patiently.
So, I waited a while.
“It may take a lifetime.” God said.
“I’m not prepared to wait that long.” I replied patiently.
“Then you must develop patience,” He said.
“Then give me patience quickly.” I retorted impatiently.
The best poets wait for words*, your own father wrote in a poem.
“Thank you, Lord,” I said
“Now I understand how to write Poetry.”
“Anything else?” He asked.
“No,” I said.
“Thank you for my poem. I have just written it,
I need
One more thing from you.”
“Take your time and make your requests,
Ask and you shall receive.”
“Can you grant me some sleep now,
More blessings in the form of poems.”
“Done.” God said,
At least that’s what I heard.
Might have been selective hearing.
*line from the poem, Poet, Lover, Birdwatcher by Nissim Ezekiel.
©2022 Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to say what it is about the poem you like. Writing to the author is what builds the community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -JL