Tikal

 

Roaring howler monkeys,
unseen in the forest,
make a sound
like angry steam
escaping
from a tunnel,
while bright
green and red parrots
screech
from the canopy
at the misty margin
of trees and sky.
Some trees
seem encrusted
with bright red pompoms
sprouting
on otherwise
lifeless branches –
parasites
killing their hosts,
amid rampant life.
Bird sounds,
a relentless cacophony
of whistles, gargles,
rasps, screams
and ceaseless chirping
obliterate any hope of silence.

On the crumbling
rock structure,
that reaches
above the crowding trees,
priests once climbed
nearer their gods.
Now,
twelve hundred years later,
only weeds, mosses,
lichens and lizards
inhabit
this abandoned
relic of a city
that died
long before Spaniards came.
Time and jungle
conspire
to disintegrate
and engulf
the works
of man.

 

© 2009  Michael Yanega
26  January 2009

 


 

 

 



 

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