Statement of Intent:

I wrote this poem during an artist residency at Arkansas Tech University. The narrative, which I carved into a fallen Post oak on campus, was to remind the students that they are not alone. That everything comes from the things before it, and that we too, are built from a legacies around us. The writing has since been orated in readings, celebration events and classrooms.

I am compelled to have these words in a book now, so that they can meet children and parents in their laps. It is for those who are still small to learn that big things require time and help, and for those that are now big to remember that we are deeply interconnected, and only as strong as our communities. For me, this writing is a pertinent rebuke of the individualism that has separated us from one another and the earth.

OAKS DO NOT COME FROM ACORNS 

Oaks do not come from acorns. 

They come from dead rabbits,

and gnat eggs, 

and snake skins.  

They come from iron ore, 

and buffalo clover, 

and 170,000 year-old sunlight.  

They come gentle breezes, 

and wild, violent storms.  

They come from a newborn mockingjay singing its first song, 

And from a lover’s whisper, escaping in haste.

They come from rock and bone and guano,  

from spring rains and hungry fungi, 

and from the dust, of 12,000 years of humans before us. 

Oaks come from the cracks and the caves of decay, 

they come from their heartwood rotting away. 

They come from just a few seed that survive,  

but without help,  

oaks do not come from acorns.