The Guava Tree Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

She pretends she does not limp
Resting a hand on the wobbly knee
Her bones could be heard creaking
She does not acknowledge this.

The shopping is utterly irresistible.
Her sister is gone; she is next in line
See the bone-dry fear in the whites of her eyes
But why talk of death, probable leave-taking?
These people have sinister designs
To deprive her of the joy of being alive.

The last time she went shopping
She had a minor sprain in her ankle
The doctor made such a ruckus
Come to think of it, she believes
She could cook food for twenty
A walking stick? Who needed one?


A thought comes like a yellow
Autumn leaf riding down layers of air
Her sister is gone; she is next in line.
But she has a lot of work to do yet
There is so much to celebrate -


The resplendent colors of crisp cottons
And the sheer joy of feeling their sheen
And a thousand other joyful flippancies
One could haggle deliciously while feeling
Their smooth texture and complain of quality
A Saturday shopping expedition followed by
Hot snacks at the roadside restaurant
Warm summer days of family reunions
Ambient evenings of perfumed weddings.

She crinkles her eyes to peer through
The sky-spaces of the old guava tree
In the backyard of her ancient house
It is all the same; nothing has changed
So much to do and so much to celebrate.