Happily Lost Inner Child

By Sreehari Sreekumar

Like a playful child in the countryside,

I cling to the memories’ hanging root; ambivalent.

It is said that life happens now, and yet here I am,

Sourcing life from the past, keeping it bright.

I can see a man at the village gate,

Leering at me with gloomy eyes.

I know his purpose and who he is,

That’s me and I must depart to him,

so that he can find his peace!

Life is all about the ‘nows’ and mine is here,

In this village, on this tree of memories.

I gazed at him helplessly, woefully

And slipped into a hollow in the trunk,

away from him, into my present; my solace.

By Sreehari Sreekumar