Sister Trees [A Poem]

The trees, they are my sisters.

They call up a remembering deep within

Speaking  to me

They tell me not their story, but mine.

My heart beats through their trunk,

their sap runs through my veins,

My breath entwined with theirs since birth.

Recounting the story of where I come from,

of who I was

and who I can grow to be.

Assuring me that no matter where I go, they are with me

That I have roots.

Roots that are not rotten.

Roots that I have tended,

Fed with fertile soil.

Roots that do not feed bitter leaves, but the sweetest fruits.

Roots that run deep enough to ground me

So I can reach up

to Source.

These trees, I feel their embrace.

They envelope me and,

like a sister they keep my secrets

My dreams in whispers running through their leaves

Their wisdom planted, taking seed

My knowing growing in the light.

I reach up, branch out, and blossom in their image

These trees, they are my sisters.



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