I feel the damp earth against the soles of my feet and the sensation calls me into stillness. I imagine my soul reaching through my feet to the center of the earth where it can hear the sounds that elephants make. My blood flows beyond the tubular boundaries wrapped in skin and spills into the river that rages against the oncoming storm.
“It is I!” I cry into the canopy of branches over my head. “I have come to be in your presence!”
Sycamore, maple, and oak breath in my scent and absorb me into their ancient, stoic ritual bracing against the winds.
I swallow hard and am swallowed by the ground, washed by heaven’s tears and swept away in the current.