Sweetgrass
Between every blade of Sweetgrass
there is the whisper
of those who inhabited this land before.
Earth remembering
the ones who left their offerings,
and loved Nature as their own
flesh and blood.
Beneath every stone
there lives the story
of how we came to be here,
and why.
Ancestors teaching
those who now have human bodies,
and have come here to try their hand
at untying the knot.
ⓒBrittanyJadeWilson
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Also in Poetry
Live Oak
She came to us on a lazy Mother’s Day afternoon,
Carrying the story of our family between her brow.
The passages of the births and deaths of our Ancestors
Etched in lines on her hands and face.
Ylang Ylang
…Stormy nights I woke
to the scent of you visiting me yet again,
Meet me there - our place - on the illuminated
plateaus
where creation and humanity meet.
