Ramada

The first piece I have ...in the reality of much loss. In reality a dream.

Ramada


I fell through the ice and into the uncertain
Imediaelty i was surrounded by the tribe of moving water
Cold and clean
White with action
Blue with force
Purposeful
I was moved about too many places
Each time struck with a new view of mountains
Mountains I could never reach to climb
The tribe knew where they were taking me
I did not.
The electric energy of tiny moving fingers
Worked constantly to scrub me
Scrub my body
Scrub my mind
Scrub my very existence
Cleaner now.
Moving evercloser to the edge
To the beauty of the fall
Knowing without seeing the the crashing water as the tribe piled on each other
Hearing their roar of victory made of millions of determined whispers
I hushed my heart and opened my eyes...ready
They were not
Just before the fall, when I should have been part of the cascade of purity
Strong hands pushed me to the land, where earth was now unfamiliar.
I hiked to a gifted ramada
Wondering about tomorrow.