Forest Child Poem by Sheena Datta

I often lose the sense of direction,
when I wander in the lush meadows of my remembrances

the nectar breeze I inhale
keeps my blocked throat moist
how sweet is the fragrance of the laughter
which keeps my puckers delighted

I am a forest child
resting my head on the strong woods
feeding on the feast of adoration and embraces
gaping in the reflection of a lamb
in the myrrh flowing around my feet
the tiny hurdles in the depth
glistening with the fungi smothering them
I smile and let tiny waves form ripples of hazy delight

I am a forest child
and this is where I belong