Why this image? It brings to mind the poet Caedmon, and his poem about the creation of the world.
My account partly explaining how Caedmon and Hild have entered into my story is linked below. I say “partly” because I don’t ever feel like I can fully explain why this story means so much to me. It has a way of continually inviting me back in, pulling me into complex root systems, seeking, seeking some unseen well of water. I did a bit of a deep dive in university with my long poem “A Gift of Bones,” but I’ve never felt like this has exhausted the potential. If I pay attention, I feel like pieces of my life are always returning to this story.