09/02/2026
The Heartbeat Beneath the Forest
She sits where the forest opens its chest,
her back resting against an old tree
whose roots remember more names
than any human tongue.
She does not speak.
She listens.
The earth beneath her breathes
a deep, steady drum
beating far below stones and bones.
She places her hand upon her heart
and feels the same rhythm answering back.
Pine and moss rise into the air,
warm soil and rain-soaked leaves
carry stories into her lungs.
Each breath is a greeting,
each exhale a quiet thank you.
Butterflies pass like small prayers,
wings brushing the silence.
The wind combs her hair
as if she is a daughter
returned after a long journey.
She hears the forest thinking
trees leaning toward one another,
roots whispering beneath the dark.
They tell her she belongs.
They tell her she always has.
In this moment
she is not alone,
not separate,
not small.
She is the listening.
She is the heartbeat.
She is the breath of Mother Earth
remembering herself
through a human soul.
🎨 Art by Serin Alar
🖊️Poem: Piahn
