Reach this way, said the octopus tree, her clever arms thrust earth deep
as if she worked nets cast beneath us, gathering the intimate shining shadows
of what we gave up to fit in,
as if to show us reclamation is an act
far gentler than belief,
and what heals the soft mantle of this world
is not the rooting out of our own pieces,
but the tough joy of being found in that retrieval.