Her Whispers: A Poem on Nature and Healing

Her Whispers

A poem exploring the night’s enigma, its profound mystique, and its quiet healing of nature and humanity. 


I stood there feeling the Night,

Her eerie quiet echoing loudly.

Whispering were gentle rays, silver threads of Moonlight.

Hesitant was she to leave me, holding me warmly.


Around me were contorted structures in black,

The blanket of dark blackened the trees lifeless.

A sudden squall stormed me back,

Wispy clouds veiled the Moon, rendering me speechless.


The squall, I knew, was the Night’s no,

The oaks that breathe secrets aren’t lifeless.

The starry sky meant their healing, readying to glow,

To balm man-inflicted lacerations on trunks priceless.


Her enigmatic air blowing from lands unknown

soothe warped wounds in a time unmanned.

Her celestial aura heals humans too, not trees alone,

Embrace her with open arms all-hearted, for she slips like sand.


The unmanned forest is but crowded with trees,

Lores the whispering shadows sanguinely sing,

Harsh tales of summer, bleak winter’s bellowing breeze,

All endured, thanks to the nights – the renewal they bring.


Gaurav Chandra Tuli



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