r e w i l d i n g
stream of consciousness
i am
d e e p
in
the
f i r n
neither {f l u i d}
nor {f o r m}
awaiting
the
s u n
*
by the
l i g h t
i
f l o w
a runnel
r u s h i n g
toward
o u t w a s h
spilling snowmelt
carving paths
a n e w
*
through {s t o n e}
*
through {t i m e}
*
crashing
f r e e
into
h e a d w a t e r s
thirsty for
t r u t h
*
pouring out
only to
f u n n e l
back in
to meet
tight
w i n d i n g s
and
c o n s t r a i n t s
bound in
silted eddies
*
and i
f e e l
the
pelagic deep
c a l l i n g
in
c r e s t s
and
e b b s
and
s e a f o a m
*
still i
s p i n
in the
v o r t e x
of longing
t r a p p e d
in
whorling
p o o l s
of undertow
c a u g h t
in the
c r o s s c u r r e n t s
*
yet
i know this
l o o p i n g
does not
s e r v e
me
i am not
m a d e
for these waters
i was not
m e a n t
for the
c h u r n i n g
of the
oxbow
*
i n f i n i t y
knows my
n a m e
it
s p e a k s
to me in
s w e l l s
pulling me
t o w a r d
my deepest
r e m e m b e r i n g
*
not {control}
*
not {confinement}
*
so
i
r a g e
against the
m a p s
and
c h a n n e l s
and
d a m s
a hungry {r i v e r}
diverted from my
c o u r s e
aching for the
w i l d
*
i have seen the
o c e a n
from
glacial crowns
i will
n o t
be
h e l d
as stored water
i know my
p l a c e
amongst the
moon swayed
t i d e
though it is
a boundless
m y s t e r y
i am certain
i am
the
d a n c e
of the
crashing
w a v e s
*
so i
f l o o d
the gates
crack the
f o r m s
that taught me
to fear
the
f l o w
rush the
s t r u c t u r e s
to break
b e y o n d
the barriers
built
to
h o l d
*
s p i n n i n g
into the
mouth of the
s a c r e d pull
rising
b e y o n d
my
known
thresholds
r e s u r f a c i n g
a n e w
called by
the
e s t u a r y
as it
w h i s p e r s
to me
in rain song
*
i steady my
s w e l l
*
s u r g i n g
*
f l o o d i n g
valleys
washed along
s i l t
and
l a y e r s
of debris
t u m b l i n g
over rock
and dry earth
c h a r t i n g
my own way
*
i
have
known
the
c o u r s e
of small
creeks
and the
e n d l e s s
binding of
c o n s t r u c t s
but
in this
new
f o r m
i
know neither
c a l m
straight lines
nor structure
i
r u s h
in
toward
f r e e d o m
spreading over
e x p a n s e s
*
yet
with time
i
r e m e m b e r
how to {river}
and {c u r v e}
and {c a s c a d e}
a
r e w i l d i n g
spirit
i n t e g r a t i n g
every form
into new
c a d e n c e
a hymn
of
p u r p o s e
and
f l o w
*
until
i
d i s s o l v e
into
brackish waters
m e l d i n g
into the
i m m e a s u r a b l e
depths
of
b e i n g
*
a
r e t u r n
*
to {o c e a n}
*
to {m i s t}
*
to {s k y}
*
gently
r e m i n d e d
through each
e v o l u t i o n
i was
n e v e r
s e p a r a t e
from
d i v i n e {rhythm}
only
c y c l i n g
the
vast
u n f o l d i n g
of
the
i n f i n i t e
h o r i z o n
About the Creator
Kristen Balyeat
Words fly to me on the wind, bump me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night—I’m humbly one of the vessels they use to come to life.
Also, i love you:)
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