Ecological Observations on Growth
Is birth only a rupturing of surfaces?
Sprouts from abandoned coconuts,
hoisting pinnate leaves, an abacus
to measure my absence from home.
The mango sapling too close to the portico
jostles for space against walls now,
canopy bursting into narratives
just above the moss-tiled roof.
Poised in the absent time, I wander
into its trunk, hold bone to fibre
the hardened resin of loss in heart
and heart wood. But, in the moist
sapwood, the chorus of coiling
hyphae rises through the roots.
From somewhere, between light
and darkness syntax unfurls
grainy with the salt of kindness.
If one goes back to beginning,
is more time granted?
In the hush afterwards,
even faces get uprooted,
leaving no wood
in memories
as if, they were held by watery
stems, like banana plants.
as if, the weighty part
is always the fruit
already consumed.
On the netting
by the sewer,
at the intersection of
refuse
and what remains,
a face
lifts
in smoke
from a memorial board.
Where she lived,
marigold loops still gild the doorframe,
the morning hymn has found another voice.
Time erases occupancy
even from those dreams
forgotten in the morning.
