Vana*

Silence cannot be shredded
by the noises of birds,
each picking through the forest
a life its own.

It’s an effort to sit on the bark,
draw signs in air,
watch vapour from river rise
in a breath.

Light in sharp slant slices water.
In between rocks
time drowns, day silences
in deliberate chants.

* Vana, in Indian languages, means forest.

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