Poetry Sunday: On the Fifth Day by Jane Hirshfield

Searching for a poem to feature this week I came across this one by an award-winning poet that I, frankly, was not familiar with and it felt just perfect for this moment. And now I will definitely be reading more of her poetry.

It seems that the scientists are now forbidden to speak or at least they are not listened to when they do speak. We will pay a price for this. We are already paying a price for this. Perhaps we have already reached the fifth day...

On the Fifth Day

by Jane Hirshfield

On the fifth day
the scientists who studied the rivers
were forbidden to speak

or to study the rivers.

The scientists who studied the air

were told not to speak of the air,

and the ones who worked for the farmers

were silenced,

and the ones who worked for the bees.

Someone, from deep in the Badlands,

began posting facts.

The facts were told not to speak

and were taken away.

The facts, surprised to be taken, were silent.

Now it was only the rivers

that spoke of the rivers,

and only the wind that spoke of its bees,

while the unpausing factual buds of the fruit trees

continued to move toward their fruit.

The silence spoke loudly of silence,

and the rivers kept speaking

of rivers, of boulders and air.

Bound to gravity, earless and tongueless,

the untested rivers kept speaking.

Bus drivers, shelf stockers,

code writers, machinists, accountants,

lab techs, cellists kept speaking.

They spoke, the fifth day,

of silence.