1. I ran barefoot through the dense, moss-blanketed forests 
Where my footsteps were but a whisper to the murmuring pine
Dipping my toes into our pellucid lakes
Blue Jays whirred through the dappled sunlight
Summers fondly spent out on canoes with relatives
Spearfishing for succulent walleye and trout
Foraging through the boreal woods for wild mushrooms, like chanterelles 
When parched from the sultry air, we drank from the dakigami-nibi 

Such cold water purified by sphagnum 

2. 
Sphagnum
When indis–my umbilical cord– was severed 
It was stored amongst quilled birch bark baskets
Wrapped up in a mat of earthy threads 
As I was swaddled in my moss bag and tikinagan 
Hanging on the wall in a state of liminality 

The chattering dissonance danced around the room as my aunties discussed what to do with indis 

3. 
As with the sphagnum moss that carpets the Taiga biome
Sequestering carbon to be distributed by the mycorrhizal network

My umbilical cord did such as the same 

4.
Being granted the autonomy to do what I could with indis 
To perpetually hang in a state of liminality 
Or to reunite the ancestral threads with the dampened peat 
I chose the latter 
So that one day, a child could run barefoot through the moss-blanketed woods
Amongst the murmuring pine 
And my umbilical cord, having grown roots, will hear stories through the mycorrhizal 
Of parched throats and stomachs full of trout