Poem Friday # 19

The Jungle

From above it is immense.
A mat of green photosynthesising vessels.
For hundred of millions of years it has been,
generating life within.

The occasional opening
speaks of destruction
at the hands of man.

Smoke billows in the distance.
Fires, that clear ground to meet our insatiable demand for lathery soaps.

Inside
and you enter into an inhospitable world.

It sucks your breathe as humidity rises,
It coats you in sweat as you dare to breathe from every pore.

Ears tune in to alien sounds:
Cicadas that screech frenetically,
The howl of a monkey and
the thunderous roar as a giant leaf falls to the forest floor.

Nostrils are invaded by moisture and fragrance:
flowering orchids,
damp leaf litter,
and the pungent aroma of wild garlic.

And you see
vast armies of insects
patrolling their patch.
Soldier ants that forward march,
forward march, forward march.
Following a relentless trail.

I seek the light and see nothing but
buttress roots as tall as me,
and etiolated shoots snaking to the sky,
Climbers and creepers
swinging their way upwards by any means.

I feel my heart rhythms,
pulsating to a jungle beat,
And I am acutely aware of myself in this place.
Nutritionally devoid yet nature rich.

A vast and bountiful kingdom,
sacred to native tribes,
Who's existence hangs, precariously.
As yet, uncertain.