Where does healing come from?
Out of my mouth.
From my thoughts.
Towards the world.
From Underground,
like tree roots multiplying,
connecting across soil,
rock and clay,
fungal,
a kingdom without a king.

Person.
Community.
Nation.
World.

Bound-rooted,
bordered in plots,
beholden to this soil, not that,
weighing origin and the size of a trunk.

Instead: I see a rhizome
that moves tree to tree,
carrying sugar plant to plant,
infiltrating, across soils and fields,
multiplicity,
not seen but urgent,
beneath the surface,
undefined but connecting.

 

1/8/2026