An entry in The Crocodile Prize
Kina Securities Award for Poetry
The Flame of the Forests is snuffed, what rewards do we reap?
Is this the price of the future that we bartered for?
To let strangers enter the womb of our jungles deep
And the Flame of the Forest to be no more?
Will our children suckle on the breasts of this whore
Whose virginity was plundered, sold as something cheap?
Was this denuded wasteland what we bargained for?
The Flame of the Forest was snuffed while we were still asleep.
Searching the blank skies for visions until our eyes got sore.
The jungle is a womb and its virginity we must keep
Or the Flame of the Forest will be no more.
Roundel poem inspired by Steven Ilave’s haiku and sijo on the Flame of the Forest and Barbara Short’s picture of the flower in full blaze: 10 March 2014.