Unfathomable Poem by Etienne Charilaou

The strange bird came one morning.

There are millions and millions of people in this world.

Large, brownish, mottled, the bird looked out of place like an ornament that is too large for a room.

So many different things are happening at this instant in time: a multitude of lovers coupling, a multitude of rapes and murders, a multitude of robberies, a multitude of young people falling in love - so many things on the broad spectrum of happiness and pain.

The bird was not too afraid of us. You could get fairly close and he or she would remain immobile.

Who can know what is happening everywhere at once? And not just on Earth.

We were excited - perhaps the bird was here to stay?

How is it possible that I feel alone in such a teeming world, or that I am in a place that is like an empty beach, that at a certain time is filled with people - men, women, children, seabirds, dogs - people sitting on towels, people walking alone or in a group sandals in hand on the wet firmed part of the beach where the waves terminate and slide as far as they can go; children running, the youngest in their birthday suits quite oblivious to what it means to be naked; and some people braving the cold surf - but where I am is not a public space - only certain visitors are allowed in; the rest of humanity - keep out! Not in an unkind way but this is a sanctuary, not quite a monastery but still it is a place of seclusion. Yet even in spaces where many go - notably market places - still I feel separate, a lone planetoid weaving in and out of the pressing throng, trying not to collide with the other heavenly bodies, aiming for a destination where I'll buy something that will for a time satisfy. But the deeper needs are never fulfilled in this way. I am reminded of the story of the fishes who being spat out from their watery home keep each other alive by rubbing one another with the moisture clinging to their slimy bodies. In the same way we suffer a long, cruel asphyxiation and as we progress through life this painful condition gets worse.

The bird found a place under the hibiscus and rested there. A peeled banana was placed on the ground nearby in case it felt hungry.

I can't think of more to say about that which I have no direct knowledge, which affects my life in mostly unseen ways - the unseen forces of population and economics which can have very real and dire effects, namely shortages of food, failing medical infrastructures, crime etc.

The next morning I asked, ‘Did you see the bird? '

‘No, ' was the answer. It had gone. Our garden was only a stopover.