I'm pushing myself to work in a genre that feels a bit uncomfortable.
And the Mississippi's mighty
But it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across
With five steps down.
-The Indigo Girls
You began as a puddle
Pooled after an early summer rain.
The world shimmered in droplets of jewels,
Fresh and green and hopeful.
You were new, perfectly collected,
Reflecting the placid sky, feathers masquerading as clouds, possibility.
Later you were a trickling cold-water spring,
An unexpected discovery, come forth
From limestone and lush ground covering.
The sound of you, both quiet and loud.
I dipped my fingers and toes,
Your chill unshakeable, a spark.
Soon you became a stream,
Peaceful, easy, clear.
Then quickly a river,
Current too strong to resist, rapids rough, flesh scraped against jagged rocks,
But then the curve of the riverbed
And again languid, comfortable, familiar.
Now you are an ocean,
Beautiful and dangerous in what you can reveal to me about myself.
I am buoyed and consumed by your depth.
The submersion promises life and threatens to drown.
I long both to submit and repel.
I am baptized, but not saved.