We are so much water, relentless, falling into the sea
each drop secretly praying for the ocean to freeze
after so many storms and cliffs thinning thoughtless mist
we want shelter. we want stillness, we hopelessly wish
but we’re out here with our churning
mixing torrents and oil, setting waves aflame
at random sending hard water down
to sludge in the depths of the stream.
memories drift off in the summer, rolling forgetful steam,
when the rain comes, from nowhere, we’re flooding with alien scenes
from some other river carried by clouds without names.
When water
beats against the inside of your skull
and water screams for cover or whispers through muddy walls,
and water presses down in white shards into your shoulders
and water howls in the winter with dancing abandon
feel for the edges, the rough shores of the river,
lift your head and breath, keep the light in your eyes,
let the unreachable sun remind
water is not all that exists.
There are rocks ground up in our muscles,
and we can heat ourselves and push ourselves and lift high into the winds.
Water is good to follow when you’re lost or crawling,
cleansing body, softens skin,
but when you think you know where you are
and your wounds have healed or scarred
you can rise on a breath of your own covert fire,
hiding superstition under glamorous wings.
Take up the strength of the earth and turn the river where you will,
flame threatening or soothing in your commands,
the river could be horses rapid plowing uncontrolled.
It could be an old mare that already knows where you’re going.
But steer this river you’re swept up in.
Remember that its only a piece of you.
You have the fire to boil it away.
You have the wind to whip it anywhere.
You have the earth to drink up the rain.
Don’t drown in the sea of your own flowing passion.
Let the waves wash over the sand
and into the channels you’ve set towards the horizon.