Red-gold journeying,
carrying ripe seeds,
the salmon seems to push its way
to where it needs to go;
but strength is in its willingness
to be thrown high by water,
to let itself be slapped on the belly,
moved forward into the unknown.
There is work here,
a refinement of muscle,
an accuracy for landing
where the river roars,
an orientation
with constant attunements
coming back to the painful rush,
the vivid propulsion.
The river carries,
but the salmon are marked;
they bear scars,
the rocks do not catch them gently.
Their strength builds
alongside their growing fatigue.
Their map is a yearning.
a vague longing to spread life,
fidelity to birthing.
Some will feed bears,
humans, the roots of trees,
still crafting the web of creation
in submission to the flow.
To understand that the leap
is not self-propelled
but an inevitable rising
when we let the current throw
brings new brightness
to the way we see
the flashing scales
of fish in flight.