Tree Birth

I was walking in a wood where ancient beings stood.

They were tall and twisted

and in the shade they cast

lay a well worn path.

In amongst the roots an old woman stood

Bent and gnarled and reeking of wisdom.

Her head to the side with little expressio

She beckoned me to an unknown vision.

I followed her, there was no choice

For in her eyes I heard my grandmother’s voice.

Through a curved doorway to an underground tunnel

I followed her, fearless and trusting her cunning.

The walls and the ceiling were old cold stone

And the passage twisted down like the old woman’s bones.

Deeper down the air got heavy. The dark became darker

And there was no feeling

The only sensation was that of being.

I came to a cavern with just a glimmer

Of light from the floor where phosphorescent water gently shimmered.

I stepped across the pool and placed my hands on the wall

And deep in my blood I heard a silent call.

My fingers felt the thick old roots of the trees above

And I melted like water and like sap I was sucked

Up into her veins and was held in her trunk.

I was held so tightly, no desire to move

I felt absolutely nothing. There was nothing to do.

Then I heard her sighing and her gentle breathing

I was pushed slightly higher with a subtle squeezing.

In her side was a large gnarled knot

I could feel the wind and the sun was hot.

A voice said “whenever you’re ready” and the time had come

To step back in the world.

Feet first, one at a time, through the hole in her side

I was birthed again on a new tide.

I turned to face the ancient tree

She was gone. The air was clear.

The old woman of the trees knows the secrets

She cries no tears she simply teaches.

Touch her, let her take you

Only then will she wake you.