Land

I search all the forests, skies and seas
for the lost pieces of the invisible umbilical cord 
that grows from the roots under the land 
and holds together the veins of my being.

I was meant to gestate in wombs, 
first human then wild, 
and I am left amputated, 
aborted from my rightful cavity.

How do I break the concrete that keeps me
walking, running away from my ground?

How do I dispel the illusions of separation
between my feet and the roots beneath them.

How do I forget usefulness?
And remember sacredness?

Groundless I am, heartless I am becoming. 
wandering crazied in finding my place everywhere,
nation to nation, city to city
blind to the belonging right under my feet.

You tell me land is commodity, 
My brain sees it as useful solidity
My heart says
Land is mother,
father, sibling
farmer, aquifer 
teacher, library
healer, pharmacy, 
preacher, and playmate
My soul screams 
Land is identity
Land is sacred
Land is the only reality

So I braid the grass
twine the weeds
and bind my veins 
to all roots
in my primal womb, 
cradle and tomb
I making myself 
a tree, 
start rooting
and learning
to listen and read
the wisdom of all
our ancestors
that is written
in their footprints
on the land beneath my feet.

Land is everything. 
Land is becoming everything to me. 
Land is becoming me.

-

Thumbnail Photo by Marta Pawlik on Unsplash