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From: Vol.10 N.01 – The Transformative Now


by Via Justine De Fant
Last night I dreamt of a woman
who birthed her knowledge with wide hips 
and a womb that ovulated only in her country.

Nested in the juncture of her supple legs,
oiled from sweat and labor, were the twisted limbs of a Narra tree.
Where birds with flightless wings made of paper maché
lapped at their saltiness.

She smelled of soil and secrets that echoed 
with the refrain of abandoned tongues,
Risen from a century's worth of harvest, 
sinking deep into her lush folds that cried
even when they were open.
Especially when they were open.
But her body cradled the sound. 
The roots too deep to hear them.

And in the late afternoon, I rose
from the daydream of my father’s province,
wondering how I had been born from his dirt
but planted far from the branches
that blossomed into fruits, 
sweet as my Grandmother.


Inang-Bayan means my motherland/country in Filipino.

Published: June 2023
Via Justine De Fant

is an emerging Filipina poet raised on the island of Guåhan. Her writing explores themes of identity, adulthood, language, and connection; and has appeared or is forthcoming in Dead Peasant, Micronesian Educator and Portland Review. You can find her lounging beneath the arches of her mother’s Plumeria tree or on Instagram at @a_coldroom_poetry.

An Australian and international
journal of ecopoetry and ecopoetics.

Plumwood Mountain Journal is created on the unceded lands of the Gadigal and Wangal people of the Eora Nation. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and to elders past, present and future. We also acknowledge all traditional custodians of the lands this journal reaches.