VALLE'E DE MAI ( Praslin's National Park- Seychelles) An oblique light cuts, with spades of sun, cathedral palms. Stony paths wind up primeval forest through clattering leaves and fronds that hold their breath at our stepping on her browinish scars. The air is listening, hidden in swirly shadows, to the black parrot's call echoing off orchids, green geckos glimpsing on impassive granite sentinels. The day rattles, slowly retreats. Mossy fingered fans ripple streams that whisper -Alas! They are coming.- We try to catch reverberations that fade away, we strive to tie ribbons of time, plea to Eden to leave the door ajar. ------------- PRASLIN'S SUNRISE ( Seychelles) The sun rises his head up from a waterpillow of blue, unties white crests to dress the sky in light. Sedate and sleepy - recoiling wet memories of impetuous caresses- - tide after tide- the beach lays her sandy whiteness like a woman's body still dreaming the foaming thrusts of her roaring lover possessing her with a thousand lapping tongues. While subsiding , then, he skimmed ivory skin, left shells like jewels on his glittering bride. Dramatic greens of palm and hibiscus shake in wonder, the breeze picks up purple flowers to drop them into the honey cup of the new day.
Paula Grenside's Questions:
Do the poems succeed in creating the atmosphere
of a forgotten Eden, where humans have to tread carefully
to be accepted, readmitted to a primeval world they have
buried under strata of artificial paradises?