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Bark - Poem

Bark can appear barren. But when you go closer, things start moving, its pieces start shifting. So much life lives hidden in its interstices, or garbed with its looks. This is a poem celebrating these rugged vertical landscapes.


Bark

Bark, you call me,
I am a biome by myself,
a stretch of sheer curvature,
a tree's unique signature,
the very meaning of texture.


Abode of a diverse creature community,
lichen-tatooed, moss-draped,
fringed by fern, singed by fungi.
I am life whether I stand or lie,
pressed on Earth or bridged to sky,
home to bark-gecko, bark-mantis, bark-beetle, bark-others,
who wear my looks and garb my features,
I'm a basking spot for snakes and lizards,
grooming post for elephants and leopards,
nesting place of wasp, shield-bug and spider,
snack bar of barbet, nuthatch and woodpecker,
ladder and staircase for vine and creeper,
morning hideout for many a midnight creature,
a squirrel playground and katydid podium,
a civet haunt and cicada stadium.

Rough to flower's softness,
dark to canopy's brightness,
grain to bud's tenderness,
contortion to leaf's even-ness,
a gallery of hidden-ness.
Above's around, within's without,
I ooze, I flake, I crackle, I make.

Kneel near me.
Press your palm and cheek to tree-skin.
Know what it is to be bark?
Full of shapes and faces,
and unrevealed places?
Run your fingers along my interstice-scape,
shade over my jig-saw maze,
peer into my cracks,
peel into my gaps,
submerge in barkness.
What stories do you read?
What secrets do I reveal?
-M.Yuvan

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