Forest Guardian

Dedicated to Ming Heang, in picture, a fearless Kui indigenous leader defending the nature (and traditions) around her community:

What if instead of soul we talk about soil?

Our existence rooted in the land,
instead of blood relations
honoring sap creations.
A tree willing to give its resin for nothing
other than some light and water.
Entire generations of families with their livelihood
attached to this standing grandmother,
the long years wrinkled on her patient bark.
Growing taller, breathing our pollution
towards dreams of harmony,
voided of axes and taxes,
fires and liars.
One more offered drop of sap – tap into the notion:
You are here, grounded in soil
a forest afraid of spoil,
all the living beings contained in this
rhizome of stories, 
living furnitures of our world, 
unseparated by resource to be exploited
and consumer waiting to be served.
A family impossible to be disconnected 
the air we breathe
the clothes we wear
the food we eat
the medicines we heal with;
all given without a word
by her, the grandmother.

The grandmother standing tall and sorrow
fearing tomorrow, 
sighing for the day 
the day that will come
that shiny and wet day
where we are the authors of monsoons
and cocoons.
Nurturing the ones who gives us life
while fertilizing that same life to flourish, 
letting grow not expecting fruiting
just because that’s the natural course of nature.

Chu wai, say the Kui
when they need to call their spirits
back to the body.
Bringing us back to reality
rooting us back to place and recognizing
the inter-beingness that allows us to be here,
protecting what to us is dear.
With winds dancing on her leaves,
the grandmother whispers if we care to listen:
Chu wai my child, chu wai.