Imitation of Trees

If we imitate the trees,
our roots sink down, branch out.
They stretch toward the Earth’s core.
There, we soak
in the mystery of primordial mud.
We learn secret words,
unknown on the surface:
tectonic groans intertwine
with mycelial conversations.
Our eyes adjust to darkness,
turn into opals of fire,
into onyx and obsidian.

Our ears,
like those of little field mice:
huge and furry.

Our skin turns the color of minerals,
the complexion of a forgotten god.

Our arms open,
over and over, to the sky,

sparks glimmer at our fingertips,
seeking the shimmering black flesh
of the ancestral sea,
mirror that speaks
the language of the Milky Way.

—Lorena (2016, translation 2025)