Millions of years ago,
I was a deep dark forest
with Arjuna and Krishna
wandering around to
burn me down.
Thousands of years ago,
I was a field/with yellow
mustard, hairy wheat,
and wobbly sugarcane,
with men running
after sturdy bullocks.
Decades ago, I was a wasteland
with machines and forks,
plucking mud off my bosom
and making bricks.
Today, I’m a public park
where a solitary human
writes these words
And wanders/with other
solitary humans trying
to find darkness/in
the glitter of cities.
Decades later, I’ll still be
a park, perhaps. Or
perhaps I will be
a bombed-out plot
of wasteland.
I don’t know,
but I’m sure
millions of years
later I’ll be a deep,
dark forest with
distant relatives
of homo sapiens
running in my womb.
Nachi Keta is a neurodiverse writer from New Delhi whose work focuses on mental health, oppression and the absurd in social and personal.
Featured image credit: Free-Photos/Pixabay