À l’heure du tout à l’image et du buzz sans suite, «l’express» souhaite faire découvrir la plume de poètes, de chanteurs, d’écrivains et de tous ceux qui jettent leur âme sur le papier, et qui mettent en mots des réflexions profondes.

There, in a mysterious wood, as I strolled

a lone convoluted alley,

drew my steps in deep and carved secrets.

I was thrusted in old parades.

Call it not a promenade!

Martyred trees, having outrageous trunks

with unshattered spirits,

woven in mahogany antique oaks

and shredded by the wrinkles of crying eyes,

I could decipher unrealism and blank promises

from the sage believers.

Some had their flesh and chests out and necrosed were

their carcasses

but still the roots were grounded

and the crusts were cemented into vases of payback.

I sat in a meditating position to hearken

the revelations of trees.

Dried wicks and leaves were adorning my barefoot soles

on the military mosses.

I could not sit still and concentrate.

I was scared of red ant stings and bites of vicious snakes.

Massaged by inhalation, wind blew my anxiety

in silent and motionless exercises.

I was guided by a spirit animal to vanquish fear

and my restless legs were soon relaxed.

The trees resumed and whispered their indignation

in a soft tone

about whom to believe on Earth and how to protect oneself.

The open mouth of the south tree said:

“Dear daughter, you will be a friend and a foe to yourself.

A friend when your thoughts act with good motions

and a foe to embrace indecision and stagnation.”

The west stumped tree lamented its loss:

“Warrioress, you are meant to lose people

and branches on your path.

Latex, blood and tears are dear.

Stand still in storms to overcome cowardice and fear.

Train your soul for courage and discipline.”

The necrosed carcasses of the east tree yelled:

“I was dwindled by trust and burnt by blindfolded eyes.

I refused a harsh reality for comfy lies.

I was lame and overgenerous to shadow people

who would slaughter me for their food and furniture.

I wanted to be garlanded with flowers of generosity

but I was strangulated by snakes.

I wished to be the epitome of kindness

but I was burnt alive in a festival of mockery and fool

with dragon fires.

Now I stand as a slanderous soul with eternal scars of

regrets.”

An air of liberation broiled my heart

and my eyes were opened to the north .

Drawn was the imaginative tree of life.

The pathway of choice and grace,

paved by dignity, spirituality and immortality.

The lanes of silva were incarcerated in prisms of tenacity.

I silently walked forth the contours with

no detour of fragility,

respecting all the coarse papyruses of strength.

My feet trembled no more in the reliquary echoed conch.

“Stand tall like a tree but walk like a man with feet!”

Bio

Jhaya Gujadhur

A Public Health Nurse, she here shares a poem from her first anthology, “Poesy and Quotes”, launched in 2024.