"A Little Forest’s Face"
by Rohit Ekka
Oh Forest! Silent dream sleeping;
On my window of my eyes,
I saw you from my very birth;
On the leaf bowl of your womb’s birth;
All are singing of your saving face.
But I wonder where the saving passion is;
It is only on paper and in the news.
Oh forest! The face that you showed;
People call it a simple, non-living pod,
But I saw through my window of my eye
The breathing stone that breathes
In the forest face as a foundation,
The trees that build the barrels of veins
To preserve seas of the sky.
The leafy clothes of forests washing
The darkest carpet inside her bellies.
The ever-flying forest’s airplane
Flying, hiding one end to the other
To winnow and germinate.
Oh, faces of the forest,
forgive me and my little mind
I too boast of your saving face
But there are a few ways
I can, but not, for I was in your womb;
Would not I know how much is your womb,
So that I can save you,
Oh, beautiful and harsh faces of the forest,
Let me be a little to be,
And be little to know you,
And save your face of faces.
Published on the Writory Wall.