By MAYA GREEN
So what’s the word for it, again?
Of being fractious, and covetous
Where it’s so relentless, so depressing
This mad scramble, to grab and snatch?
Are we not sad, or astounded?
Being visited upon by pestilence
Where hunger, remains unsatisfied
Despite all the efforts, everyday?
There’s a scramble in the grain house
Soon the granary will be empty
Where nothing is left after the grab
Only sadness, and deep confusion
It’s puzzling what is happening
When every man is just for himself
Where covetousness is deemed a virtue
And nothing is left for anyone else
Is there no heart, nor sense of propriety?
Behind one’s words and protestations?
Where lies advice, and good counsel?
Or are they all gone with the wind?
Dateline:
9:35 AM
April 9, 2023
Shah Alam
Selangor DE
(Translation of a poem composed in Kelabit entitled “Kan Anun Tidih?” on April 9, 2022)
