The Secret Life of Roots

i don’t know when i began, only that i arrived in the dark

a whisper of a thread drawn to the rhythm of earth

before the trees ever reached for light

i live beneath the forest floor, where time moves slow and steady

and every silence has a shape

where roots braid themselves into maps woven from memory, minerals and rain

no one sees the way we stretch toward each other without ever meeting

how we know when the gum tree is thirsty, when the old oak leans too far

sunlight does not touch me but i still rise through the ones who bloom

i hold them from below, i anchor what dances in the wind

and though i am hidden, i am not small

some think the life above is the life that matters, but roots know better

we know the strength it takes, to stay, to hold to keep the whole forest standing

while no one watches

i remember the shape of every tree by the way it leans into its roots

and i never ask to be seen because i know what i give they call it stillness

but it’s patience

i am the keeper of balance, the thread beneath the leaf, the unseen spine of the forest

i do not rise, but i remain and that is what keeps everything alive.