Notice the rocks that surround you,
boulders you have carried and set down,
piles of gravelly resentful sediment
fortifying your stories and stones.
Sing them down with the deep vibrations
of your longing,
the low rumbling moans
that tremble and gasp and resound again.
Notice the cracks,
the fissures in your fortress,
gaping through the holes
to see how lost you really are.
Invoke the thaw,
the rain and mudslide,
cold creek rising.
Let yourself be bruised by falling rock,
abraded by receding pebbles,
open to the pain of losing what you know.
Sit naked in the mucky silt
when the rocks have tumbled away.
Feel the living trickle of the stream.
Fall back into the current
you have forgotten,
the swelling that will catch your descent,
deep enough to carry you.
Pay homage as you float,
helpless and loved,
in the mother flood.