I Must Be A Forest

(Dedicated to the Yanomami tribe in Brazil)

*The Forest sleeps early.

In winter I turn into a forest.
Like me, the forest retires early
Mother Nature has sung it to sleep
With a soothing lullaby.
Darkness bestowed by invisible hands
Guards its silence fiercely
There are no clocks in the forest
Light and darkness keep time.

At nightfall black inkiness
Blots out its inhabitants,
Birds and animals hushed into stillness
Daytime roaring and chirping done
Exhausted by their hunting lives.
No traffic except perhaps
The dark waters of a river
noiselessly flowing by
unapologetic for the whispers
That announce its presence,
The crocodile floats beneath the water
An eye open for danger or opportunity
The trees have received their blessings
Their prayers for night rest granted.
Dark silhouettes grace the sky
Their daytime look, different.

Till now I slept peacefully in my hammock
Now, I must be like the crocodile
One eye open for the builders of roads
Miners of gold hewing out the land
Cutting me down, mining my peace
Killing the fish, destroying the streams
Killing me with new diseases.

Can you hear the earth’s protests?
The trees moaning? The rivers weeping?
The forest is home
I am exiled forever
A wanderer on my own land.

*The Forest sleeps early. Line from a documentary on the Yanomami tribe.