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The roots of my soul

Are buried

Below

Where mud dances

With worms—

Waltzing

With the earth

The unseen of

Who I am

Spreading

In all directions

Nourished by sunlight

Above.

 

 

A forest of mysteries

Where wild things hide

In every level

The topography

Of past

Present and

Future reside together

Making peace of

The chaos

Dissonant sound

Beating rhythm

From the top—

Down.

 

 

What you see with your

Eyes

Cannot be disguised

As a seed

Cannot betray

Its bloom—

What was planted

Now grows

Amidst the rain and

The snow but also

The spring and the summer

Undergrowth and

Over—

 

 

From the tops of the trees

I watch

Through eyes

Filled with

Fire

And a heart

Burning the cold

With hope

That—maybe—you

Wearing the gear

Fashioned for a Pioneer are

Worthy of the journey

Inside.

 

 

A hero

Stands

At the edge of the wood—

You—

Whose strength is fashioned

In humility

Whose bravery

Is gentle courage

Like a storm

Thundering

Releasing only

Quiet rain—

Falling.

 

 

“Unfold me,” I whisper—

Fluttering words

Carried by the

Cluttered air

To the ears of

One—

 

You

 

Who

Does not flatten

The forest

But sees the

Beauty between the

Weeds.

 

 

Beneath your feet

Muddied

Dancing roots

You lift

Like a gardener

Tending

All that lives

Inside the Waltz

And under the surface

A partner

Worthy

Of all that is buried and

Hides.

 

copyright Jill Szoo Wilson

(Photo credit: This poem was inspired by Boje Arndt Kiesiel’s piece, The Forest Edge. http://www.kiesiel.com)

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