All Relative by Ayida Shonibar
35 lines
Issue 7 (Spring 2025)
I am a spore, a sliver
of being attached to
a colony of interlocking
fungi embedded in dirt
my ancestors fostered me in
The wildflower arrives
in style, petals conspicuous
and underground processes
stretching beneath us with
the utmost confidence
One by one, ambitious weeds
suck nourishment from soil
we share until our ancient neighbours
collapse, their houses filling
with new occupant roots
The wildflowers scorn
our too-small goals
of dwelling in a communal
home for generations without
spreading mycelium any further
They impress upon us
a need to leave personal impact
as they raze our horizon before
dispersing, each a celebrity sweeping
onward to bigger, better ecosystems
I search with my hyphal cousins
the empty pockets left
behind, finding vegetal debris of
the old neighbours and folding
them into our earthen embrace
Their broken bits fit
in our stalks, moulding into
unglamourous filaments, strand after strand
of me, my relatives, and them, until
we become one plain family
