"Wah-ulu in the Mara Tree": A Poem of Enlightenment

Terence Stone

The Sooriya (Sooriya or sun in Sinhala; Suraj or sun in Hindi) Mara is the name for the Sri Lankan Rosewood. It literally translates as Sun Mara, but no mythology is available online. If Mara refers to the God of Death, then Sun Mara juxtaposes the light and dark of the life and death aspects of being. Interesting. If anyone can provide any additional information, please comment.

Sooriya Mara tree with bats at a distance

I've thought from time to time about the shock in first seeing hundreds of wah-ulu, huge fruit bats, hanging above our heads from a gigantic spreading Sooriya Mara tree while on a walk near Tissamaharama in Southern Sri Lanka. During the late afternoon, occasionally one would drop away and lazily lift above the canopy on a 3-4 foot wingspan, returning after a brief circuit to settle in the shade. It was eerie and caught the edges of dark fantasies, as if fragments of nightmare encroached on the waking day.

Sooriya Mara tree with bats close up

Steeped in Buddhism, as we were in Sri Lanka, the relationship between these nightmare fragments and the Buddha’s great contest with Mara, the God of Death beneath the Bodhi Tree further intensified the images for me; so I decided to write a poem about the experience, the result of which follows. I put this poem out there on a dark wing beneath the silver light of October’s poya (full) moon just before Halloween.

Wah-ulu and the Mara Tree

Wah-ulu, wah-ulu, in the mara tree,
Your daylight song is silence deep;
Stretch lazy, loosely leathered wings
From black-fruited bodies, grave.
One drops away and tears the air
In scything flight to leave the shade
And slowly test the waning sun.
Wah-ulu’s time is drawing near

Wah-ulu, wah-ulu, in the mara tree,
When ripened night falls, slip away;
Shape-shifting nightmare’s foul decay
Of rotting flesh--distorted fantasy!
Your triumphant screech distends the dark
Before the rising moon reveals how stark
Wild hunger drools the thirsty earth.
Wah-ulu’s time has come at last!

Wah-ulu, wah-ulu, in the mara tree,
The light returns and there I see
Your shadow-shape’s gross gluttony.
Whose blood was draw by you last night?
Which soul was tortured in delight?
What bilious seeds were sown in flight
As gifts from darkness unto light?
Wah-ulu’s death will always be
Defended by the mara tree.