Article voiceover
Mother trees [ . . . ] nurture their young,
the ones growing in the understory.
—Suzanne Simard
You might even say they are nursing their babies.
—Peter Wohlleben
shade-shackled we glum in the valley of your shadow
marcescent stems hunger-spun to shrivel & droop
we knot & burl
slub & warp in this thick dark above us {we want to believe}
your zillion green hands lace a lightscape where our
thoughts can’t quite leaf Mother {are you there} in a
dress of moss we press root tips
our listening parts outward to perceive your
language its crackling
hertz music us through fungus: mycorrhizae hyphae
mycelium probe our reaching roots penetrate root hairs
invaginate our cells
make a meetinghouse of rhizosphere speak
chemical to our open pores pheromone to stomata
we believe
{we want to believe} you’re preparing us for theosis ascent
where you grow we grow girthy and bark-thick
are we baby gods or the scapegrace of darkness
decay-bound
lash us with your branches {are you near} score us
with arborglyphs
{can we bear} on our birchskin aleph & zed scar & seal
yes we’re all foodwish imperative gift-poor
yes we clear cut yesterdays but crave tomorrow assure us
there’s more than humus dust wormshit & earth-shush
Mother find us with your filaments tender tendrils chapel
us your green reach
Artwork by Oluf Olufsen Bagge