There among the silences
find the ghost tree—
the split black branches making
fissures in the clearing.
Watch as the fog dresses
and undresses the wounds,
the suppuration of bark,
so raw underneath.
The birds can find
no purchase.
Scavenge the esker,
make a circle of stones,
kneel down wreathed in
feather and bracken.
Prepare to knit yourself
back into the world.
Reprinted from Kinship: Belonging in a World of Relations, Vol. 5: Practice.
“After” was originally published in Heather Swan, A Kinship with Ash (West Caldwell, NJ: Terrapin Books, 2020).
