Karmic Forest
janine canan
It wasn't our fault -- the Gods sundered us.
We were two tall trees growing together,
bark in bark, our inner rings locked.
Was it Kali wielded the axe, that seared
our bodies crimson, sliced our tightly woven roots --
riding out of Durga's forehead, her tongue beheading the world?
We teetered, swayed and must have fainted,
crashing into the silence -- now our torn roots
that reveled in thirst, are stone coils seeking nothing.
So let the little children climb up
on our throne-like trunks, that will lie rotting
in the glistening wet for centuries to come.
And our scaly green fronds, that drank the light
and filled the forest with breath --
let the crows pluck these rusty wands for their nests.
No, it wasn't our fault -- fate demanded this death.
Every scene was perfectly staged -- and we,
let it forever be said, were magnificent falling.
