Understory

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I am drawn to the understory

to the complex layers underneath
the towering structures of the tall ones.

 

I am drawn to the sideways curves
of adaptation -- to less light, less
water, less access; to more
diversity, more shadows, more
visible changes on shorter time scales.

 

I am drawn to what emerges
underneath and around.

 

I am drawn to the bones, the fractal shapes
of bare branches, dark against winter sky.

 

I am starting to look for what has grown up
in me, underneath who I believe(d) I should be,
underneath the striving to be big and power-full,

always strong and reliably the same; 

consistent, impactful, anchoring.

 

I am starting to notice different shapes in the tangle --
graceful, unexpected, surprising and familiar, and, I think,
glad for being seen.

 

I am not a tall tree, or a mountain.

 

I am not the one in charge, the
primary decision-maker, the public face of.

 

I am a weaver, operating in the understory, 

learning my roles and gifts.

 

What would it be to feel myself living
as a small tree, curving in the shadows, part of
a community of beings that grow, adapt,
die and decay, feed each other, play our roles
and leave room for others to play theirs?

 

There are moments to venture above the trees, 

take in the sky. I love breathing in that spaciousness
and inspiration. But I don’t want to live there. 

 

I am nurtured and renewed inside the forest,
under the trees, in the dappled sun and shade,
surrounded by all that green complexity.

 

I am a creature of the understory.

 

Tasha Harmon, June, 2021