Anchor word

A  word keeps me in a state of boundedness to a sentence . A mountain child  is born and turns a wavering  coconut tree , a tree that dallies with the sea wind .The child  who was born to the mountains points to a new bird  of a plane. Look there is a new  bird ! The planes are finally here and their language. But the word is still missing. Now a poet’s near one is transiting from a hospital silence to a radiated arm. The arm turns blue like the sky and will be nothing like it. I am not sleeping. Please go on with your woman talk while I hear inside my eyelids. I hear the fall of the cascades there.

Let me cut off my ears so I cannot hear her silence, says a poet of a near one who is transiting from a temporary to a permanent silence.

I keep waiting for my anchor word. The word fails when poetry gains. I am anchored to nothing. The mountains melt and  turn streams and river .River flows to the sea. The mountain child turns to sea.