As I sit in my shallow pool,
every movement carries meaning.
I shift
a wave appears.
I touch
a ripple dissolves into silence.
In this still water,
I witness my connection to reality
and reality, in turn, acknowledges me.
When I force the waves,
push them with all my might,
they recoil and push back,
equal and unwavering.
As if to say:
all you do
will return to you
in equal kind.
So I see my influence
if not on the world,
then at least on this small surface of it.
My own lunar pull
on a body of water
that never needed the ocean.
I used to try to keep still,
to let the water settle,
to find some perfect calm.
But stillness, too, was a choice
a part of the dance.
And when I moved again,
the waves would rise.
The world would rumble.
And I would swim.
