“Poetry is news that stays news.”
— Ezra Pound
ꦺPoetry serves as evidence: of other lives, of our times. In its purest form, poetry can be the most direct journalism—a laser beam of information, unfiltered from writer to reader.
For decades, poetry has shaped the war genre, showing us how the smallest things during conflicts can hold infinite meaning. In an interview with Outlook Editor Chinki Sinha🍷, Ukrainian poet Boris Dralyuk says “Many poets in Ukraine are quite literally fighting on the frontlines, weapons in hand, but poets can also fight through poetry. Their work can remind readers that war is more than a matter of shifting borders and casualty numbers.”
In the poetry collection ‘To The Murdered Children: Poems For Palestine’♏, published by Outlook, Palestinian poet Fedaa Zeyad writes:
“We want them with us
all those children whose parts we are collecting now.
We won't reprimand them for a mistake in dictation
We will buy them many pencils, notebooks, colored button-shirts and dresses spinning during the school celebrations.”
In another collection, Syrian poet Akram Alkatreb’s verses💖, translated by Jonas Elbousty, show us the travesties of war in Syria:
“I WANT TO UNHURRIEDLY DREAM ABOUT YOU
Syria that I yearn for
Put your long war aside under the shade of a tree
I want to unhurriedly dream about you
without shedding a single tear…”
Poets responding to news is not a new phenomenon. There are endless examples. Outlook’s January 21, 2024 issue, Poetry As Evidence▨, takes a closer look. Guest-edited by Amar Kanwar, the issue presents a selection of poetry and verses that have moved us and that we feel serve as evidence of our bleak times and lives—of truth, distortions, or simply existence—and as a premonition of what is yet to come.
In the issue, “Poems On Azaadi And Doomsday From Kashmir”♐ features a poem by the late Kashmiri poet Pirzada Ghulam Ahmad (Mahjoor) who writes about the burden of Azadi/Freedom:
“This Azadi has become as weighty as a mountain on people
Only a few fortunate ones possess it, like a handful of flowers.
People are mourning, and the rulers are sitting like grooms in their houses
They have kept Azadi with themselves in solitary seclusion”
—Translated from Kashmiri
In another collection, ♏‘Of Struggle And Resilience: Poems From The Northeast’, Michelle Rungsung from Manipur writes:
“My mother will one day tell my daughters
what she has always told me,
Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.
Only this time, I’ll make sure they know
that if it’s feeding them poison,
it’s okay to burn the kitchen down as well.”
For more stories from 'Poetry as Evidence,' click here.
