The Soft Riverbed

There is something easy in floating.

Simply letting go,

allowing the slow current to carry me forward.

My only responsibility is

breathing

choosing to close my eyes

or stare at the wide open sky.

Limbs spread wide,

back arched, head tilted back.

Loose.

Trusting these unknown waters,

knowing my body won't betray.

~~~

There is no reading of a room.

No tension in your shoulders.

No words to filter in this intentional stillness.

No disappointment-laced kisses,

or bracing for disconnection.

The only heaviness is the gentle pulling downward-

seeping wetness saturating hair and clothing,

an expected, cold embrace.

Not your blank, unreadable gaze of blue ice.

~~~

I could lose myself in this river.

Release it all.

Let it all go:

my breath,

my hope,

my life,

(our love).

Allow the engulfment.

Espouse the complete freedom of doing nothing,

of being no one.

~~~

Not the fixer.

Not the empathetic one.

Not the one who can never drop the ball,

nor the person always keeping the glass half full

while the growing cracks whisper their inevitable intent.

~~~

I wonder how it would feel to

allow my body to drift down

to the soft riverbed,

to surrender it all,

and emerge through the surface untethered and new.

Stripped of my old skin.