Birch is believed to derive from the Sanskrit word ‘Bhurga’, which would translate to something like ‘tree whose bark can be written upon’. The paper-like bark of the Birch made me envision her as a poet. A lady cloaked in white, twigs as arms rising high into the skies. Her skin containing horizontal lines which form a language only the tips of my fingers can read. She could be found in between her equals or would show up in places where she is surrounded by other kin. Near waters, in deep forest - her cleansing, angelic presence everywhere.

I wanted to write on her skin like our ancestors had done. However, ripping off the paper-like bark was not an option at all. I decided to wait for her to gift me a piece of her skin and trusted that it would come if it had to. During the last week of January, I passed a few Birches in the dunes, where the Highlander Cows had used the Birches’ bark as something they could scratch their horns and heads against. An act that made her skin fall loose; an act that resulted in a slice of paper I could write my ode upon.

Hereby I am honoured to share my ode to the Birch tree, a poem called ‘Bhurga’ written on a piece of her own being. I am so grateful for this month’s process, which made me work through trust and patience. I want to thank Eva Driessen for sharing her personal experience and studies on the Birch tree. I want to thank you for taking time out of your day to read this Kin Story.