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The Jungle Inhabitants
by Kaitlyn Davis I noticed the jungle inhabitants Once. Then I saw them Always. They fling themselves From the trees To the ground Like dead leaves Choosing to fall. Not one's cast aside. From amidst the branches They scream. I hear their Roars. Their words never slide Through the air. They cut. Slice. Devour. Not one disappears. These Inhabitants Spend their days Shifting the jungle Into darker darkness. All words And deeds Remain. Forever. Cloistered. Not one escapes. I noticed, Once, that the Inhabitants Never change. They stay together And look The same. And act The same. No one ever leaves. This jungle of theirs Surrounds me. I can not remember When it has not. Perhaps the sun Slipped between the trees And passed along The underbrush Once. No sunlight appears now. I used to cry Out. Often. That’s gone now. I’m used to the Green things. The jungle. Its shadows are Immortal. Not one disappears. These jungle inhabitants Control me In a way Nothing has before. Perhaps my mind Was untouched, By the darkness, unaltered, Once. I heard whispers Of a glistening waterfall And giant blooms That soar to the sky. Perhaps such beauties Existed. Perhaps lovely things Wait. Somewhere. A question lingers. “Why Do you Remain?” “I’m lost In this World,” I reply. “Swallowed.” No one answers me. I noticed the jungle inhabitants Once. Then I saw them Always. Even though… There are no jungle inhabitants. There’s only me. |
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