Mother’s Daughter

Annika Rennaker

She is the tree on a windless day That still bends, That still breaks, With mud on her face, she prays for healing Which is to say she will stay Kneeling

Forever. Like a spider spinning Its web between two trees, she awaits What cannot see her.

Which is to say her fate rests

Between ponderosa pines. Which is to say She is her mother’s daughter. Which is to say she is alive Until the ax.

In a sky gone lavender, She bathes herself With silt and river water.

Mother Nature’s rapids

Tumble past boulders, Unite before the plunge.