Member Poem

 
 
Holidaying in Chimney Woods
These woods are like a mother
                                      putting all embers out.
Sweet wind winnows me out of
                                               all secret worries.
As I dip myself into the woody stream,
                                tension termites disappear.
Throats of birds broadcast unceasing songs
                                           like our FM station.
When a tribesman squeezes a honey-comb, I
                               ride my tongue up the palm.
My mind convalesces slowly here
                                                under the foliage.
Fireflies fly out through the windows
                                                         of my skull.
Fresh thoughts are cooked in the seclusion
                                                      of the woods.
Shoots of dreams reappear, breaking the dried
                                           pods of my memory.
I see the fossils of a paradise, which we had lost
                                                      under the past.

 
(Chimney Woods are in Kerala, India.)