Trees

The Trees came to me with the knowledge

And straightened my back,

Made ropes of my muscles,

Twisted from cipó, hemp,

Woven bamboo,

The threads of webs in my sinews.

When the strong wind blows

Cower not indoors or low ground

But up on high,

Spread your branches,

They told me,

You are the leaf

The roots

The bark

The solid fiber spine,

Where psychic serpents,

Simians, and birds of all eras

Of all time,

Still call home.

 

You are the forest,

My child,

The world is your home.