Remarkable isn’t it
how the body carries the weights it has been burdened with.
Physical manifestations of it in the flesh and bone that is called to the ground by gravity being forced upon it.
Our scars that count the times our skin was made to bond itself.
Bridging across the river of our blood.
Mental markings,
those appear too.
Not ones that can be counted in the shower,
or to be shown, in the same way,
to friends as a way to reminisce.
Not dissimilar to a raft flung down scarlet memory,
helplessly feeling as we move across a path not of our own choosing
yet traveling it nevertheless.
I sit atop this butte again
the quantity of which I’ve climbed
stopped being counted lifetimes ago.
Within those lifetimes
I’ve only encountered rough waters here once.
My streams,
since that day,
have faithfully tossed me into memories of white waters.
When snow blinded my vision,
the density of it swallowing my voice.
As I begged in the way a toddler does,
hoping that something outside of myself
would free me from bonds of misery
that I do not understand.
Breaking the newly discovered thinning veils of sanity and rationality.
Stolen from me
as I was pulled underneath waves of ice.
I feel both in awe of nature and of storytelling, thank you 🤍