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.
