Kichine in the Mango Garden(A Lyrical Poem of Memory and Fear)You are still the same—Like a player paused inside a game,Eleven years old, dusk breathing slowlyThrough a mango garden with no name.Bare feet learned the language of dust,Green shadows stretched and sighed,The sun melted behind the leavesWhere childhood hid its pride.Fear was small then,

🌙 Kichine in the Mango Garden

(A Lyrical Poem of Memory and Fear)

You are still the same—

Like a player paused inside a game,

Eleven years old, dusk breathing slowly

Through a mango garden with no name.

Bare feet learned the language of dust,

Green shadows stretched and sighed,

The sun melted behind the leaves

Where childhood hid its pride.

Fear was small then,

Soft, unnamed,

It borrowed shapes from whispers

Because the dark could not be tamed.

Now you return through glass and light,

A screen that quietly knows my mind,

And fear wakes up—not screaming,

Just curious, slow, and kind.

Are you dear,

Or a kichine with flowing hair—

That childhood metaphor for fear

When logic was not there?

Not a ghost, not a presence,

No breath, no bone, no stare,

Only memory wearing imagination

Like mist pretending to be air.

Fear is not what follows us,

It’s what we once became—

A child who named the unknown

So silence could be explained.

🌱 Poetic Insight (Very Brief)

This version leans more into:

musical rhythm

soft fear, not terror

memory as poetry

ghost as metaphor, not belief

The kichine here is language, not a being.

A name given to fear so the mind could rest.

Written with AI