As a child
I could talk to the trees.
They told me their secrets.
They land would show me
What food there was to eat.
I would sit in awe listening
To streams gurgle at me
To the wings of birds carrying messages.
The wind would brush the hair out of my face.
For the longest time
I didn’t know how or why
But it was so.
And growing up can change you
And adulthood leaves you no room
For fantasies
And like a muscle that atrophies
When not used
I left the language in the past.
Then I found out my heritage
That the blood in my veins
Was that of the earth.
I knew what I had known but forgotten
I can hear the whispers again
But I no longer know how to translate.
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