The Lake
took my grief, my heartache—
and as guilt blossomed in my chest,
it, too, dissolved in waves.
She nullifies the noise of cars,
the blind fury and indignance of their captive pilots,
screaming aloud or silently
to be recognized (needing to be held).
She does not deserve such sorrow and rage,
but I realized, then: size, and age;
for how many eons, generations
has she absorbed and absolved?
Am I maybe so small?
Do I deserve this embrace?
Will the mass of my hurt be the final drop,
or will she take and take, as I Take and Take and Take?
I am so lost, until I feel
her landlocked tidal changes
greeting me each time with love and patience.
I am never not welcome (here, maybe anywhere).
How can she hold all of this?
How can she take so much abuse—
like so many human matters: unjust, unfair.
But my God, I need her
like I have needed no other human.
Ever.
I worry for her future.
A worry I will not let her take.
