Mama has hair of silver green leaves - M.L. Grieve
One of the Top 24 submissions in our 2022 Urban Tree Festival writing competition.
Mama Has Hair of Silver-Green Leaves
“You always do this funny sigh” (my daughter knows me well)
“like you're inhaling the very leaves from every single tree”.
Soul-nurturing osmosis of life-gifting symbiosis,
all-consuming comfort through my entire being.
As I stand here
mothered,
embraced by my kin, breathing
dendrophiliac dopamine,
I begin to root, to belong,
to hear the community
of my elusive ancestry
speak through Earth's melodic song.
Raised rootless
The Tumbleweed Girl,
a waif with mycelium veins
sung sorrowful chords as
mud pies were forged in the rain.
I borrowed her root earth to heal
my incessant umbilical pain.
She offered the nutrition of family.
Willow psithurism awoken, a world that
made sense beyond splintering
pretence of blood and meaning, my small world
gleaning context of my family tree, peace
reigned through the resplendent aspen canopy.
I am safe, I am nurtured, I am protected, and loved.
There can be no rationale for the intense
silent howling of my peace.
I am home.
Four families
three names
eighteen buildings
so much change
but finally
I
am
home.
M.L. Grieve
M. L. Grieve; poet, writer, tree seer. Her first drafts written within the ancient forests of Hertfordshire; she’s currently collating her first collection.
