Esther Vincent Xueming (b. 1987)
SELECTED POEMS
Fern Song
I
After you left us, I walked into a grove of ancient trees and there, I saw my fern
sisters growing in the trees. They were wild and free and untamed by pots or
domesticity. I was humbled by their presence and remembered the wild fern by
the roadside path where, on one of our walks, you led us there and stopped to
pee beside the fern. I looked into its centre and saw a rosette heart cradling new
fronds and thought how similar we were, the fern and I, both holding what was
dearest close to our hearts.II
I am finding it hard to let go.
Fern, how do you shed old leaves unremarkably within caverns of branch and
trunk or roadside shelter? How do you make peace with wherever home is for
you and grow through the grief and sorrow that waterlog your roots? How do
you fold and unfurl quietly into that restive space between joy, contentment and
disbelief? How do you disperse your spores by the wind, trusting that in time, all
things become beautiful? How do you release tentative shoots that burst forth
from your belly, rising like a tender love song from the womb of your heart?Teach me, fern, to shed my brown leaves and grow again with little resistance.
I am reaching out to touch you, knowing I can never fully know you.
by Esther Vincent Xueming
from womb song (2024)
