Skip to main content

BEFORE I KNEW IT WAS TYPHOID by Pranada Comtois


 On my last pilgrimage to the holy town of Vrindavan, India, I contacted Typhoid…

 I wrote this poem the evening before I was diagnosed and rushed three hours away to a hospital in New Delhi. As I suffered that evening, I contemplated what it must feel like for a once verdant area to become a desert. That year of my visit, the monsoon rains had failed, meaning they didn't arrive.

The rains are crucial for crops that feed the Indian continent. 

For days I fretted about what no rain would mean for millions of people during the coming year. Somehow I felt that my suffering was the suffering of all people and animals and the earth itself.
'Woman Carrying Pot' by photographer Anders Blomqvist

Before I Knew it was Typhoid

Metal meets metal
  worn cylinder sounds
   release to crickets’ night trill

then intrudes again into twilight’s static:
  raw pads reflect
   driver’s reflex and neglect

Vrindavan, once oasis,
  where still a river flows,
   becomes a desert

please will you notice
  underground water evaporates:
   how many towns will vanish?

Tonight birds are silent, monkeys still
  the volcano sun will wait
   short hours to spill lava scorching

even absent, the white globe reigns
  earth’s fever does not subside
   as the village, so, too, I lie

awake, pinned
  between walls and ceiling ignited
   a ravening flame sears the brain

echoing people, animals--earth’s last wish--
  peacocks screech in relentless heat:
   Extinguish this blaze

         We are dying.
      ~

(780 million people on our planet lack access to clean water. 
Click here for more information) 

Gathering around well for water


Pranada Comtois spent two decades immersed as a contemplative-ascetic in an ashram, and the next twenty years raising a family and running two multi-million dollar businesses with the intention of embodying practical spirituality in the world. She brings the wisdom of multiple traditions and lessons from her own practice into her writing and speaking. Pranada is a spiritual activist who advocates for the Way of the Feminine Divine and the practice of unconditional love in daily life for personal and community transformation (Bhakti). She blogs at Little Ways of Being and is passionate about empowering women to find their unique gifts, voices, and strengths and to usher them into the world. Connect with her on facebook here. 


~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 


Comments

  1. Such a beautiful, moving piece. "Extinguish this blaze we are dying." It says so much. Peace

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Ga...

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT by Ginny Brannan

 Just take a moment to pause... When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and enjoy the stillness and beauty around us. In the Stillness of the Night  by Ginny Brannan Late winter’s eve and all is still the lawn lies bathed in silver light— gray shadows race across the yard and climb atop the windowsill to draw my gaze upon the sight. I stare out to the moonlit night, across the deck and wooded path fresh–painted by new fallen snow. The scene infuses with delight; this gift inside storm’s aftermath. Half–buried now, the old birdbath lies shadowed deep in indigo— it waits on promise of the spring when arctic chill has finally passed and snow gives way to new green grass. With gratitude, I hedge to go; tranquility allays my soul… I turn ...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...