In Bone and Breath

This poem is written about a moment when I found myself in the Swedish forest, suddenly aware of a deep schism between where I am now and Canada, where I came from. Within that schism was a tidal wave of grief, and then acceptance, and then a sense of coming home again to something greater than a particular patch of Earth, something boundless. It’s for all those who find themselves far from where their roots are.

There I was, sat beneath a ring
of woodland sentinels that suddenly
I felt separate from. 
I looked around at this place familiar
and foreign, miles and miles from my first
and formative home.
My eyes traced the Scots pine
from forest floor to branches that swept
across the dove grey sky and I confessed:

      I do not feel my roots here.

The circle of guardians seemed to lean in my direction,
not in body but in soul,
and within I heard them whisper:
No, your roots are not here, my dear,
but your wings are – and still,
in bone and breath, you belong.