01/26/2026
Hesperocyparis forbesii:
For what will you trudge, tromp, scratch
your way through a thicket of tecate cypress;
untouched regrowth following some past fire,
dense with one inch trunks at one foot spacing, or so?
For what will you abandon your trail, your road, your path, to step where steps are not permitted
without incurring scratches to your face, and fingers, wrists, ears, and neck?
What is it to dive into this with passion,
searching for that beacon beyond the patch,
the uncaught pokemon, that elusive entity
(Quercus cedrosensis),
only to find a child’s lost backpack in the depths of the wood you just swore no one else would ever have stepped foot in willingly?
For what would one encourage a child to crawl, push, scrape their way through an impenetrable thicket of Tecate Cypress?
For a chance to do crime? Wreak havoc?
No. That isn’t the motivation of a parent.
For freedom that might exist, over there, on the other side? For a new chance? For love and hope, through sacrifice? To escape some past pain, or danger?
For that freedom, I learned here, one might fight, weave, articulate their way through a thicket of tecate cypress.
With that freedom, I learned
to feel grateful for the chance to trudge, tromp, scratch my way through a thicket of Tecate Cypress,
where steps are not permitted without incurring scratches to your face, and fingers, and neck,
only for the desire to find a tree
that I have not yet met.
With that freedom, stuck and panicked and poked,
I learned a more visceral sadness.
That at the edges of one world
there lay infinite other worlds
of depth, love, hope,
searching for a different, better world
for the children.
And in no world do I wish for someone to elect to force their way through an impenetrable thicket
toward fear of brutality, inhumanity, and decimated empathy, to be hunted by a private army of murderous men in masks, only because they chose to flee, in hopes for a different opportunity.
The children are alight with purpose and possibility.
They are not to be captured and extracted.
The families are not to be separated.
And so utterly obviously, the citizens are not to be shot.
For the love of botany,
F**k Ice.
