“The land knows you, even when you are lost” (from Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall-Kimmerer)
Then why am I lost?
This offers no comfort.
And what does the land know about me?
Indeed, it freaks me out.
It doesn’t help me to know that the land knows me
when I don’t know myself.
Maybe the land knows me,
but does it care that I wander lost?
How can I thrive in a land that lets me lose myself?