(7TH OCTOBER 1951 / Trissur, Kerala State, India.)


He is an aboriginie,
Listening to the the music
Of the forest, of twittering
Birds, houling monkeys,
Hum of the bees, roars
Of lions and tigers, living
Out of fruits, leaves, flesh
Of animals he caught
With care, never to reduce
The produce of the forest,
Lest he go hungry.

Living in a shack of wood
And grass, with animals
Roaming near his neighbourhood,
Never harming them,
His children playing with them,
And the snakes, he lived
With his folks drumming
Dancing, singing all day,
Mounning the death
Of dear ones and celebrating
The arrival of new ones.

He was foreign to fight,
Jealousies and threats, listening
To his headman and priest,
Living a life of tranquility.

Ravikiran Arakkal

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Comments (2)

very descriptive poem. I felt very connected to nature w/ this one, and could really imagine a life as an aboriginie for a minute. It almost seems like it might be easier to just lose all attachments to the world and go back to our roots of nature. Great job, check out my stuff if you get a chance
Ravi, Nice snapshot of aboriginal life...but found spelling typos distracting. Peace, Ray