In A Land Of Walking Roots Poem by Denis Mair

(for a painting in Sanju Paul's new series titled 'Hesan.')
... ... ... ... ...

If these were rooted birds, they would be avatars of airy earthiness; they could be soaring in the stillness of a long now...

but they are not; they are knotted figures that grew up root-like, their myceliae in tatters...

maybe that's because they were formed around naughts;

and ever since they brought their subterranean feeling above ground...

it has been hard for colors to breathe in the no-longer-open air...

even the figure going up in flames can only clutch stiffly...

the onlooker is reduced to a gesture of forgetting plasticity...

the mist of indeterminacy is contained in a bubble that is contained in a wreath...

but the wreath is incomplete because craftmanship was interrupted...

pristine blueness is contained by being worshiped in a tower...

even tongues of flame strike postures of rootedness...

the uninvolved lurker makes himself a cipher; the branching clump foretells aerial roots to come...

the vital circulation of pinkness turns to morbid memories in soil...

the capacity to discover form will not strike bargains for joy...

the knack of plasticity has made its choice...

resolved to form itself in the direction of sympathy.