There are no stars
beneath the thick canopy
of the blind jungle.
Toxic moisture drips, drips, drips
from malignant leaves and vines
and coats everything in a fog
that could smother the flames of
Hell
into nothing more than
inoffensive steam.
The heavy scents
of death
and mildew
linger like spores floating in the still air.
The vibrant songbirds mute,
the shrill cries of monkeys,
grumbles of toads,
and roars of jaguars
form their own prophetic orchestra
of the damned.
As I fall to my knees,
unable to take another step,
I think
somewhere out there,
the sun must have risen
long ago.
***
(Cuenca, Ecuador -- April, 2020)
This poem is a throwback to my poetry from 2017, some of the earliest poems on this blog, that were inspired by my time in the jungle. This is one of my favorite poems because I feel like it's a more modern style while keeping a lot of the same elements that I liked from my earlier poetry. The hope is to make the reader feel immersed in the jungle.
No comments:
Post a Comment