You Are Home

She rose from the ground
Just as she rooted.
Time pushing and swaying—
Making her trunk lean and twist
To this way
And that. 
Water and rocks and huge 
Hunks of earth 
Shuffled her roots.
Each day she would wonder 
How she would ultimately bend.
Whether, with one storm
Or another,
She might break. 
Until another
From an orange grove of the mother 
Spoke to her and said:
“You are home,”
And she immediately
knew its meaning. 
Not the ground—
Not the grove—
Home was in her being.
In the twisted
And
Twisting—
The having rooted,
Ever reaching
Always swaying.
Having been 
And still being.
Not in should be 
Or could have been—
Not a grove over
Or younger
Or older.
At home 
In her body
Home. 
Where sun is breathing 
And the expansion 
Comes
From within.

---

Poem: © 2022 Ashley Wolpert Miller
Photo credit: © Jakkapan / Adobe Stock