Underworld

I cannot see the world
beneath my feet.
This tree that dares the sky
in shimmer of twigs and leaves
drives another dialogue
in the earth below.
Questing roots search
a world of blind desires
from which I’m barred.

The soil
scattered with fallen leaves
shields vibrant forms
manifesting life
I sense but do not know.

The wombat has the better of me
there:
with tunnelling claws
and nuzzling nose
he reads the strange
exchanges made
in alien languages
spoken soundlessly
in the dark.

The mind too
|has depths
beyond our sight,
where no winds blow,
no light shines.

Where are my wombat paws
to dig and tunnel
in this alien world?
How can I travel
in the dreaming dark,
feel for unfamiliar forms,
find, touch, sense
the rough thrust of hungers,
thirsts, hopes and despairs?

Paws are not enough.
I need a wombat’s claws
to take me there.