Soviet sirens singing aloud,
Their voices trembling
As they see the throngs
Of wearied sailors leaving
Their rocky shores.
Dust billows, swept by breezes
Made cool by icy rains,
Deep puddles made by
Truck tires still shallow
And wet in contrast with
The dirt-laden air.
The city moans as I speed away,
Everything smaller behind,
Not that I am able to see it,
Myself having no mirrors
That lead to the past.
Moving for hours down the only
Paved road I can say
It has been a pleasure
To be upon after months
Of beaten paths littered
With trash and rocks;
The rocks there to help
Move when it rains.
We arrive where we had aimed,
A pair of arrows on descent,
Shot in an arch at cardboard tubes,
Passing heretical mounts,
Having not pleased their flock,
Now stand decapitated,
Sorrowful in their unnatural ends.
Compared the the heat
And locust-filled skies
From whence I came,
The harshness of the city
Stuns my body.
The air is dry and my lips
Feel their pleasant summer sheen
Sapped out of them
By the bandit skies,
My hands dry and hard,
Yet smooth to touch
Like sanded wood.
The eternal blue that was once above
Closed its eyes above me now,
Rows of dreary buildings
Have water stains dripping
Down the frames of windows
And balconies as if
The city itself were crying
At the abandonment.
I sit inside and look around,
Pale colors in cheery patterns
Cover my walls
With marbled frames
And ornate detailing
Filling the space
Above my head.
I think of them now, the sirens
Of the forgotten shores,
Now replaced by a new
Alluring melody
Sung by a different throng
With crystals on their lips,
Yet with that same fire
In their chests.
Composed 08/20/2012
Author’s Note: I’m not saying that my city is worst than Darkhan in this poem, quite the contrary. The similarities were striking: Soviet apartment blocks, schools set up similarly. This city, Erdenet, looked like an actual city. It had blocks, roads that made sense, a main street, and a semblance of forethought in the city planning. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. I think it’s the best city in Mongolia, but I didn’t want to romanticize it with this poem; just describe what I saw on that particular day when I moved to my new home for the next two years.
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