“We were once enwombed in the earth
and the silence of the body remembers that dark, inner longing.”
~ John O’Donohue from Beauty: The Invisible Embrace
Inside is where my toes become roots and sink deep into the loam that is moist and dark and rich with ancient memories feeding my blood, renewing the sap that is dry and brittle. Deep in, inside, the pleasant lack of glare is a nectar that I drink with great thirst. Beneath the surface lies the truth that is me, a soul of primal resonance of fern and tree and flowers high in the canopy where bits of soil remain from lives long gone and provide the food that new life craves.
Stiff, sore, barely bending or even awake, lids of heavy bark that remain as slits, energy gone, drained by fire and hectic plans like copper wires binding my trunk into a tormented receptacle of strangers’ demands.
A bird is sent to sing me free into a journey seed that springs up and out, twining, budding, blooming until my essence sings the healing back to feathered throat and we are one heart.
I’m dying every moment and birthing in every breath. The call of dark and light are the mystery of the song that is unique to me yet are universal notes played in harmony expanding a world that has forgotten the melody.