The Bodhi Tree
That man who squats at the base of my trunk
Above my invisible roots
A week he must have been here now
How and why did he choose me?
The chatter in the forest is ambiguous
Some think he is holy some say mad
Others say just compost for us trees
With a wilful purpose to die
For he has taken no nourishment
And my leaves tremble—I know not why
He makes my sap crawl and all the little creatures
Have crept from my bark to settle on him
I sense a great light in the dark
Even my rootlings pause their questing ways
Is this the famous extinction foretold?
Is this the stop of the world?
He rises finally and blesses me
Chewing one of my fruits
As he meanders down the hill
To tell the men
Clive Donovan has three poetry collections, The Taste of Glass [Cinnamon Press 2021], Wound Up With Love [Lapwing 2022] and Movement of People [Dempsey&Windle 2024] and is published in a wide variety of magazines including Acumen, Amethyst Review, Crannog, Pennine Platform, Popshot, Prole and Stand. He lives in Totnes, Devon, UK. He was a Pushcart and Forward Prize nominee for 2022’s best individual poems.
