“Learn to listen to trees and they will let you talk through them.”
GUBOO TED THOMAS, Chief Aboriginal Elder, Yuin Tribe of Australia
I travel by standing still
And when I came he cried
Where I stood when he found me.
Hands swooped to find flesh,
But there was none to be found.
Instead fingers fumbled with fur.
He shuddered thinking there must be some mistake.
Raking further, further, further to that tip
Until fingertips red raw, his blood wept.
My back was scratched from his writhing,
Bark broken in places, branches ringing from his screaming.
But soon sap shall smother the scars.
I am woven into Her and she always heals,
In one form or another.
He didn’t satisfy my wild appetite,
So, tail twitching, I leave his body
Under me for the cougars.
I attend to watching spiders dance
And summon the pack with reverberating howls.
I sun naked on rocks. I read earth’s scent.
She groans in deep birth pangs,
I can hear them through the top of my head,
Her ancient appetites awakening
Telling me who I am.
I am Her glamorous fractal,
Spirit energy of some beyond experiencing,
This forest my sphere, my whole world,
To do in as green realms will.