Backwater
These ripples
come from somewhere
Behind
and beyond
where I’m willing to look
anymore
But my eyes
through tears and trance
can’t help but watch
these liquid creases
lapping my shore
Baby wavelets
Strays from Mother Storm
always out there in the void
making their way through the backwater
ruffling the once serene
and rolling thunder through my ribcage
I don’t want to merely sit as witness
to the undulating wave
Placing my faith
in the hands of the natural healer
and waiting for the salt to settle
In truth
I’d rather fell my shady tree
scoop its guts to the grave
and make my way through the chop
Hoping
that when I reach the source of this disturbance
it won’t meet me
with the same hostility
from which it was birthed
but instead
it can see
the flaws that bind my bones
the mistakes that spoil my blood
That it can look me in the eye
forgive me
and swallow me whole
.
.
.
