The Tap Root
"I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there."
I am the tallest branch,
the image in the mirror.
Down here everything is the same, just dark.
The earth is soft.
Here I sleep.
It might surprise you, but I dream in colour.
Here things long dead are transformed.
I am the mother of them all.
Deep in the dark cellar of my mind,
I imagine them.
Green leaves under a blue sky,
the pink blossoms, the fruit.
I hear them grow and bloom.
They will return to me, one by one.
They will fall long and deep.
They always fear the oblivion.
I would love to tell you that I bring them back,
just as they were,
but that's not exactly what happens here.
I am not sure you are ready for the details.
The miracle of life is a messy job.
There is dreaming involved.
Let's leave it at that.