Shigir Idol

We’re tempted to wonder
If we can remember,
If we might be haunted

By the generations
At the edge of forests
When woods were expanding,

Colonizing grasslands,
Roots reaching against ice
Retreating from their trunks.

We seem to carry it
In us, this sense forests
Were ensouled, aggressive,

A hungry horde of gods
In which we lived, foraged,
And tried to not get lost.

Trees scream and shout and sing.
They are authority.
They’re not your ancient friends.