Per Stirpes

I stand as one, but I come with ten thousand.
~Maya Angelou

And now comes you, child,
with ten thousand and one.

A great branching embrace
of us — mothers and aunties,

grandfathers and cousins, a nest of roots
woven to absorb your every footfall,

a crowning overstory dappling
the harsh light for your tired eyes.

For even as my every molecule desiccates,
I prepare to return as rain.

As what was once solid disassembles,
the soil at your feet awaits me.

I am too many now and too vast
to be less than everywhere,

to be even one moment away
from you, your children, theirs.

Distance is no match for us.
Time, a thing to fold.

Only breathe and we are there,
beside, surrounding, within.