At last smiles rise as easily 
As once shared laughter trickled 
Through our fathers’ fields.
Memory loosens the lines upon our faces
Windborne dancing, lacewings, the last reflex of breath

Dispersed, seeds set on distant shores
We drowned in unaccustomed downpours
Took comforts fleeting as the seasons
New lovers and shy touches at the crown

Trees teach the sedate grace of older schools
Satchels and scarred wooden desks
Dappled sunlight in the glade
Where we absorb the sacred lore of our communion 

Connected. Passive. Permanent.
We transmit only essentials 
Root deep. Apart but never separate
I’m here and you exist

This is what we have learned from the forest:
Water binds us, hate is poison
Death and rebirth are the natural order
Sunlight matters, for growth and shade

When need becomes detached from our bodies
penetration a thought
compliance a residue
and shed skins mulch
We find distance to be an illusion
And love is as immortal
As the wind between our leaves

[Ruswa Fatehpuri lives in London. His poems have featured in Beautiful Tragedies, Black Poppy Review and The First Line. His e-chapbook Sold and Bartered is available online.]