The Aquarian

‘I am tired’, thought he, as he poured

‘Where has it all gone, the sweet waters

That glinted silver in the morning sun

That glistened in the pale moon light

That I carried from afar and gave

So that men and beasts and plants

And the dry crumbling earth may thrive

So that life may spark in them

So that Thy creations shall not grieve!’

Wiping sweat off his brow

He paused as he heard a voice.

He raised his head, looked up

As he saw a vision.

Clouds parted before him –

Above, in the sky,

The clouds drew a painting.

Men, the Aquarian saw

Had fouled the waters with filth.

Poisons spread, laying waste the fish

Wetlands were filled with soil

Seas turned red in oil

Trees were felled

Rivers were dammed

Ponds were killed

Birds were dead

Beasts, bloated, floated dead

In the sweet and clear water

That now turned an angry black.

Clouds closed up the sky –

Then a wind blew, howling

And it rained black, red blood.

Beside him kneeled the last child of earth

Huddling, hugging the last green plant.

************* Balachandran V, Trivandrum 22.02.2010

This is a 'commissioned' poem. I was asked to give a poem for a magazine's special issue on water. The poem may undergo deletion/alterations , though I submitted it since the deadline had arrived. It is kind of 'contrived' - I don't like it much, myself!