Kerala – Where I Learned To Walk Slowly

Kerala – The Place Where My Breath Learned to Be Slow

I was born where the earth stays green,
Like a promise that never learned to fade.
At the southern edge of the waking sun,
Where the sea hummed lullabies at night.

Monsoon rains arrive like old friends,
Thunder speaks, lightning dances the sky,
Rivers swell, and the earth drinks deep,
Yet life smiles and grows stronger each time.

From the window of our small house,
Coconut palms stood like silent elders,
Touching the sky with patient hands,
While hills slept under shawls of mist.

The backwaters moved like long breaths,
Boats drifted as if time forgot its feet.
Water mirrors the sky and trees, as dreams rest on its skin.
And my face floated there, soft and unsure.

Festivals came like letters from home,
Vishu whispered hope into new mornings,
Onam spread flowers like fallen smiles,
And laughter filling every room.

The air smelled of spice and smoke,
Pepper drying on old mats,
Tea leaves rolling in distant hills,
Even silence had a scent then.

Temple bells rang like gentle reminders,
The mosque call crossed the river softly,
Church lamps glowed like fireflies at dusk,
Faith lived here like a shared heartbeat.

People spoke with their eyes first,
Smiles opened like quiet doors.
Kindness flowed like water from old wells,
Cool, deep, and never counted.

Now I walk far from that green silence,
But a small boy still lives inside my chest,
Running in the rain of memory,
In Kerala, where my breath first learned to be slow.