Arriving
by Crystal Craig

I have walked half a century
to finally reach this place.
Scars, folds, dents and lines,
toting middle aged girth with voluptuous grace,
testimony of a devoted mother
who fiercely survived.

Bare, exposed, and wholly me,
there is no apology here.
This is sanctuary.
The cathedral of the forest,
Mother Earth breathing Holy Divine.

Through shadowed cedar stands
over rain-slick earth and moss blankets,
past unfurling growth,
the harmony of symbiosis
permeates.

Welcomed by raven chortle,
the soothing sound of pebbles cascading
into still water.
A visiting gust sways the canopy —
gentle greetings conveyed.

I stand as a guest on these Native lands,
where stones and streams carry the names
of those who walked with honor before me.
I enter with humility.
I listen before I speak.

The forest does not question my belonging —
she measures me in breath,
in pulse.
She knows my heart,
my spirit,
my journey to get here.
And she is welcoming.

From the green hush, others emerge —
women of power,
of wounds,
of wild laughter.
We meet not by accident,
but by a call threading through us
like mycelium beneath the forest floor.

We are not scattered.
We are strands in a living pattern —
lichen clinging,
streams converging,
salmon returning upstream.

We are ancestral memory returning.

Here, the sacred balance is honored.
Give.
Receive.
Speak.
Listen.

The exchange is clean —
without hunger to possess,
without fear of depletion.

I learn the medicine of being nurtured.
That boundaries can stand
like ancient Douglas firs — unyielding –
while sheltering the fragile beneath.
That love can come
without demand,
without performance,
without tally.

This.

This is community —
not the word,
but the living current between us.

The knowing glance.
The warmth of hands
that have both healed –
and hurt.

The unspoken vow:
we hold one another,
honoring the truest form of sisterhood.

I am no longer unseen.
No longer the shadow at the edge of the clearing.
No longer valued only for the comfort I give.

Here, within the glade of authentic souls,
my bones remember their place.
My spirit speaks:

I belong.
I belong.
I belong.