Soil and Stars

Under my feet, I've heard
The fungi crackle electric.
Reaching for roots, talking to trees
With words deeper than water. The myco-map surges
Forest-force lightning, not suspected, or seen.
Invisible light is sparking these strings—
In the dirt, in the dark, the light still sings.
Above my head, I see,
The stars are spinning strong.
Aligning, designing,
A pattern, a dance. Each bright-bursting beacon
Now joins in the strength of the song.
Like rivers, like roadways, the light bridges bright,
Constellations connecting to out-spark the night.
Around my soul, I know,
This love is looping sure.
The light wants me, hunts me,
I'm blessedly bound. Under me, over me, holding and hoping,
I'm webbed in by Love igniting my heart.
No matter the battle, the scare or the scar,
My soul is held safe, like the soil and stars.

Okay, did you know that fungi are held together underground by a vast root network called the mycelium? Or that the mycelium is responsible for literally holding the ground together? Or—coolest of all—that the mycelium actually sparks with electricity? Yeah, me neither—which is just one of the reasons I’m thankful for my wonderful sister of the heart who constantly finds wonder around her and shares it with me. (Thank you, dear Lena!)

Imagine it with me—the ground underfoot, the sky overhead, mirroring each other. Stars web the sky in intricate constellations of light, just as the mycelium connect these flashing points underground. How amazing is it that there is no darkness that is not invaded by light?

And thus, this poem was born as I explore what it means to exist in between these reassuring networks. We’re truly “compassed behind and before,” as the Psalmist says. Apparently, we can’t escape the light-web that holds us. Thank God.