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,
đ 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. đą Poetic Insight (Very Brief) This version leans more...