“They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
They hear the first and last of every Tree
Speak to humankind today. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside the River.”
– Maya Angelou, On the Pulse of Morning
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“Never burn your ideas,” or something like that / oscillating between conformity (anguished) / what a betrayal / found such “home” in the acceptance / not maladjusted but adjusted to something beyond…trans, Latin for beyond, adjusted to a knowing incomprehensible, perhaps, to those who think they know / West / to honor the knowing / root myself in place, in land + water / a piece that was “alive” to me / I don’t know if I agree, I didn’t the first time I read it. Kintsugi, I thought / always be a part of me / “…the golden goose” / be waiting for me / a sadness / a real goodbye / a reminder
a rock a river a tree good mourning a boat a coyot(e) many many words and sometimes only one a tear already almost