A Forest

Its not a sanctuary that I want,

a forest it is that I desire.

Not the manicured lawns

and the trimmed hedges.

But the growth that is wild,

a form of limitless forms.

Roots that spill over from the sidewalk

and break the monotony of direction.

Yes, a living, breathing forest in my city

that chokes the roads;

breaking their will to go anywhere

to let live the paths that go nowhere.

Those strangler figs,

that have a foothold in the sacred spaces of life

the roots that hang from high rises

threatening to strangle the living room.

The leaves, ominously closer to the sunlight,

than the windows that feign the delight.

This murderous nightsky,

this perennial scavenger of stars,

this inverted cityscape,

deviant reflection of our mind,

illuminated but devoid of any light.

In here shall a forest take root

snubbing the citylights,

letting the darkness prevail

and the stars shine bright.