The first eåmtis¹ who found me

       in the deep jungle

bowed to my branches—

       called me saina—

    & shared stories of her sick village—

i pitied them—no roots—

    fragile bark—prone to illness

       & pain—they weep

    like no other wounded

animal on this island—

so i gifted her

    my leaves

to soothe her people—

when the time came

    i granted her permission

to teach her daughter

    the places i grow

abundant—what illnesses i treat—

       when to harvest—& this

    was how we grafted

i taotao to i tano—

    until

doctors arrived & hospitals erected—

    until bulldozers uprooted our home—

       until militaries & toxins

    infected the soil—

until barbed wire fences separated

    us—until i taotao tano

died from cancer & diabetes—

    after so much loss

the descendants of eåmtis

    are now returning

to relearn my names

    & plant the sacred language

       of åmot

    back into their bodies—

so that we may grow perennially—

    so that we may once again blossom

       & heal—