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February 19, 2024

The Spirit in the Forest

By Haril Vyas

In a heartbeat I'll return, I had vowed,
To a broken mirror searching for my face
In the crowd.
But I had plans of wandering for a while,
To my home in the mountains,
Peaceful exile.

Mountains in my head now lie in my sight,
As they do in yours when you
Play dreamer at night.
Lush and lined with lakes and forests,
Forests once alive,
Now burnt in their plight.

The smoke plays a veil, one too thin,
And too fragile to hold back
The spirit within.
I blink as it emerges, a figure in grey,
Singing happily, that all promises
Will be kept at bay.

It dances in the wind, a wind hard to tame,
But hangs itself from a tree when I
Ask for its name.
Not one, not two, it's a forest of dead dreams,
And the earth underneath
That shall play at this game.

A heartbeat has passed on the mountain's crest,
Shards of a broken mirror will soon
Be driven through my chest.
For I have my ways to let out my heart,
Let it sing aloud and dance and then
Rip it apart.

Article © Haril Vyas. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-07-01
Image(s) © Haril Vyas. All rights reserved.
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