Thoughts on Pat Lynch

Inspired by Pat Lynch and a whitewater expedition.

Drawn to water by a promise of perpetuated awe and knowledge,
every paddle dips,
re-emerging as if baptized by nature herself-

"Was he killed with an axe?"
He asks gruffly,
Irish inflection traversing grizzled beard.

And was every stroke worth the tension?

What better way to reflect than bind
to an inevitable ebb,
choosing coexistence above domination.

Tell your longest story while I do all but listen,
admiring the way your diction entraps all besides skeptics.

And what, do you think you've learned,
with your paddle and brain in hand-
how can you convert from water to consciousness?