by Devi Dang
Devi Dang’s sonnet unveils the journey of a decrepit, yet enchanted tree. It once flourished with the magic of stories but is now dying as humans cut down more forests. Although the tree continues to struggle, the poem suggests that there is still hope, which lies in the innocence of children who still believe in enchanted forests.
Sparkling purple spirits spin round the weeping fig
Unraveling each layer of its backbone to find
Scented stories of seasons trapped beneath each twig
That echo the pain of memory, begging to rewind.
The cyclone of spirits swallows all in its sight
Unveiling the skin cracked from rough winds and high tides
That now punch ruthlessly, attacking fiercely, in spite
Of knowing that they won the battle of the times.
Teardrops slither through its wrinkled skin to the leaves
That discolour from green to grey, reaching the roots
Now unable to anchor stories, so it grieves
The loss of springs led by falls that brought ripened fruits.
Still, time has not conquered this ship that slowly sails
For only spirits and springs make great fairytales.
Devi Dang is a young writer pursuing her undergraduate education, with a major in Literary and Cultural Studies and a minor in Theatre, at FLAME University, Pune. She primarily writes poetry, both in English and in Hindi. She enjoys using the medium to pen her ideas about love, nature, religion and imperialism. Apart from being an independent poetry writer, she has also been a part of the 5th Junior Editorial Board of the Youth Incorporated Magazine, with four of her articles published in that edition of the magazine.
