by Yohanes Kabes
How many times have you been drawn into this dark,
Even your roots pierce deep into the heart of the earth.
Standing there, dancing with the wind,
Struck by storm and rain — yet still you stand.When the sun comes and the dark reveals your light,
Those unkind wings fly to your branch —
Perching on your right hand, just for a while,
Then slipping away through your open palm.Those greedy claws clutch onto you,
Coming and going, leaving scars.
They build their homes upon your body,
Then leave them — uncared, forgotten.You — the branch that still holds on,
Drawing water from the deep to bear fruit.
You — the quencher of thirst, yet never remembered,
The light that strangles itself.The season of your silence runs deep.
How long must the mask come undone?
A hundred years? Two thousand?
Even when autumn arrives,
you still remain — a palace of love.
Now unfolding in visual form — The Forgotten Vessel.
Yohanes Kabes, S.S (B.A. in English Literature) is a Melanesian writer, novelist, and poet. His writings and articles focus on themes of spirituality and the inner journey of the human soul — the awakening of consciousness. He also analyzes literary works through psychological and spiritual perspectives, believing that life itself is the philosophy of the universe. In his novels, Kabes often explores the realms of horror, thriller, and mystery. He is also the first to design fashion pieces inspired by his own poetry.
