My story is of connection
of life and definition
of the things that have never
and will never be spoken
You call it dirt
I call it skin
you fling it from your body
like plucking daisies from a meadow
I want to see the unseen
among whispers that call
singing tongues with
all the rooted ones
you refuse to learn my language
my words do not line blank pages
with black ink
in tired lines
I watch for you
Wait for you
Listen to you move
I am the unfathomable, the unknown
I am mycorrhiza and hyphae
the girdling and stamen
of fungus and flower
filament and bud
You are the who of my words
the one that lives beyond
the scratch of pencil on paper
You can never know me
only a mirage
an image of my reflection
a single pixel
I cannot catch you
Like shadow you move
uncontainable
indescribable
Rooted.