BY ERIN LAVERY
In response to Pablo Nerudo’s From the Book of Questions III, in which he asks, “Why do trees
conceal the splendor of their roots?”
I know why trees hide the splendor of their roots. They were born in dirt and shit and
sand. It was all they had to feed on.
I know why trees don’t walk until all are asleep. They hide their secret under asphalt sky
so you cannot see where they splinter and smell and learned to breathe.
I know why priests hold babies under water to wash away blood no baths can take. That
blood comes from the place our flesh was born.
So, I understand why I’m quiet and frail when the plane lands down in dust and sun. It
returning to the place I cannot hide from. I’m coming home.
Deborah Horton Writing 